


she is the sunlight

by StarlightReverie



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, College, Dirty Talk, F/M, Family, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Romance, Saying the Wrong Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-03 19:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14576445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightReverie/pseuds/StarlightReverie
Summary: Sometimes, it was easier to be cruel than to sort out the feelings he couldn't define.//dasey, at college//





	1. part one

//   freshman year:  \\\

//    second semester   \\\

 

_No way.  No, there was no way._

 

And yet, as much as Derek wanted to feel irritated, as much as he knew he _absolutely should_ feel irritated, the only way he could describe the emotion that surged through his blood was...gleeful.

 

There was no mistaking the back of that head.  He knew it all too well.  The color of that hair had distracted him many-a-time in his high school days (which he would never admit)...he had practically every strand of that head memorized (another detail he would never admit).  He’d even spent probably a little too much time over Christmas Break, the week prior, studying that head.  Dreaming up the usual ways to antagonize that hair’s owner, to get the rise he so desperately missed.  Not that he ever _ever_ would’ve admitted that he’d missed their interactions.  He tried to reason with himself that he was just long overdue for some good old fashion enmity, and was making the most of it before they returned to college and continued trotting in their separate spheres of life.  Life without each other, with minimum reason to see the other.

 

As it probably should be; as he had fervently claimed was his utmost desire.

 

Still, the reality was-- Derek Venturi was genuinely, sincerely and entirely fucking thrilled to see that he was about to share an entire semester of Econ 223 with none other than Casey McDonald.  The very same girl who he’d sworn he couldn’t wait to get away from-- and yet, thought about at least thirty times a day since school started.  He was afraid that, underneath the careless assertions of bravado where he claimed to be glad for the distance...well, the truth was, he sort of _missed_ her.  Missed her a lot, in fact. But he couldn’t say why.

 

A lecture hall of 80 seats and she was perched alertly in the second row, right near the aisle. Figured.  Casey, super keener.  He practically shoved his way past classmates to get down to the front.  

 

_Some things never change._

 

God, how good it felt to know that.  His heart did a weird triple-thump.  He resolutely opted not to over-analyze _that._

 

 He was practically teeming with excitement as he dumped his bag, his coat, and his person into the seat beside her in one fell swoop.  Casey startled with a jolt, her eyebrows raised high-- after all, it was an unspoken etiquette to leave an empty seat between yourselves on the first day.  She looked up, and--

 

"De- _rek!"_ She was utterly shocked.

 

Oh, he could rub his hands together in glee.  "Why, hello, Casey.  Lookin' good.  This seat taken?"

 

Why was she turning pink?  Oh, the compliment.  Hmm.  Slipped out.   He compensated by leaning over to her bag and snatching one of the pens poking out.  "How convenient.  Here I was just getting worried I wouldn't have a writing instrument, as the syllabus will undoubtedly require."

 

She looked around, flabbergasted. "Are you-- are you really in this class?"

 

"Macroeconomic Policy with Dr. Peng.  Why, wrong class?" He feigned confusion, looking around with an exaggerated cluelessness.  "Shit.  Is this Keener 300?"

 

"No-- wait, why would you be in here?"

 

"Minoring in business, remember?" He'd made the decision about three days before they'd packed up the Prince.  She'd heartily approved and said _she was proud of him_.

 

"Right.  Wow, I guess-- I didn't think about it.  Well, um." She furrowed her brow.  "I guess it's cool if we sit near each other. If you promise you’ll behave like a normal human being."

 

“Come on, Case.  You should be grateful I’m willing to be seen next to you.”  He gave her an exaggerated look of pity.

 

Cue the eye roll.  “Right. How lucky I am.  You sure I don’t kill your image?”

 

"I _am_ booked most nights this week, and luckily I don't think even a nerd like you could clear those commitments.  Ladies love community service.  And Casey, you are definitely a charity case."

 

"How altruistic of you, Derek. How have I managed to make it this far without you?"

 

"I honestly have no idea," he replied smoothly, with his usual smirk.  Her eyes were dancing now, and for just a second, the word _home_ whispered through his brain.  He hadn't felt homesick, or at least, he didn't think he had-- but now, his heart was squeezing with something he couldn't name but was loosely familiar.  His gaze drifted over her features. 

 

His phone's ring tone chirped on the desk.  The name RINA  flashed across the front.  Casey squinted at it, before hissing, "De- _rek,_ turn off your phone! Class starts in less than a minute."

 

"Jesus, sor-ry." His snide mimicry was second-nature.

 

"You can’t ruin your impression on the very first day.  The first day sets the tone for your success the rest of the semester."  Casey tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  His eyes locked on the piece, the loose curl.  All of the loose curls.  It was shorter than it had been this summer; he’d noted that detail over break but now it was even more apparent.   "Really, I should probably be congratulating you on not being expelled.  You've done alright so far.  I don't know how.  I guess the real question is, how have _you_ managed to make it this far without me?"

 

He was studying the shell of her ear a little too intently, because she suddenly jerked to face him.

 

"What?" he asked, tone too defensive to be innocent.  He schooled his features into a sneer.

 

"I said, how have you-- UGH, nevermind," she hissed.  "Here's the professor."

 

And so they sat back, and Derek felt the world shift back into a rightness that he hadn't realized he'd been aching for.

 

As the weeks wore on, it became astoundingly clear that Mondays and Wednesdays were the highlight of his week.  Not because Econ 223 was particularly life-changing, but because he could rely on Casey being there.  Where Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays were full of parties (read: girls and fucking)...they passed in a blur that ultimately led to Monday and Wednesday, when he’d sit down in Econ 223.  Casey would turn to him, a pulsing bundle of excitement and admonishment and knowing glances and breath-catching smiles.   

 

And strangely enough, he was beginning to realize the depth of how much he missed her.  Where, on the first day, he wasn’t able to put his finger on _why_ he missed Casey, or _what_ he missed about her...well, by mid-February, he’d realized that it wasn’t just any one thing.  In fact, the list was getting disturbingly long.

 

It reminded him of high school, of those moments that stood out in his mind like beacons in the night.  Those moments with Casey that made his heart a little too full, where he knew he was watching her a little too long, and hoping a little too hard that her small gestures meant more than they did.  That she, for however brief an instant, felt a spark that might’ve made her curious...that might’ve driven her to do something daring.

 

She never did, of course.  She never made any move that would’ve taken the pressure off of him, or made his secret fascination with her less abominable. Obviously, she wouldn’t.  She was too good for that and by default she was making him some twisted, licentious asshole who had absolutely no grounds for such attraction.  And...well, it bothered him.  It pissed him off.  And sometimes, it made his obnoxious words a little more vicious.   It made life under the same roof tolerable, at the very least.  It was easier to be cruel than to sort out the feelings he couldn’t define.

 

They were just weird bursts of attraction, that underlined and sullied an affection that he knew should’ve been strictly familial but definitely absolutely wasn’t and probably (honestly) never had been.

 

Problem was, that attraction wasn’t just embarrassing.  The moments of attraction were excruciating, too-- he was ashamed of the way his palms sweat and his mouth occassionally went dry at the sight of her, or when she got too close...in her innocence, it was worse to realize that he was not only affected, but outright horny.  Unbearably horny, feeling his body harden at the flicker of her smile or the sound of her rising voice.  He certainly never acted on such feelings-- other than a disgraceful wank, from time to time.  Derek had flirted with danger a few times, when they’d been under the same roof with only a wall separating them.  There were a few times where he’d struggled to relax his panting breaths, listening to Casey in the room next to his with memories of their latest fight or their televised dance or how perfect she looked in her prom dress and the smell of her perfume, as his own come dried on his bare stomach and chest, a cold reminder of his lack of control.

 

But that was high school.  It was embarrassing and wrong, when they lived under the same roof.  They weren’t related, but...she was off-limits.  She was off-limits and he tried his damnest to push her away, to keep her unbothered by his hormonal, confused, _twistedfucked-uptotallyobsessive_ reality.

 

But surely distance would help.  He insisted on it when they set off for Queens.  It would heal whatever hormones had plunged him into such limbo.  Surely it was because he was bored of London, and knew the girls there too well, that he was being magnetized toward _Casey McDonald of all people._  Yeah, space would be good-- he went off to Queens with a determined faith that it was just a weird symptom of being trapped in a grey space that was almost adulthood, but still suffocatingly adolescent.  Space.  Space was all he needed.  Space from the Space Case.

 

Maybe it had helped.  But here they were again.

 

Somehow-- and perhaps it was inevitable-- as second semester wore on...that “off-limits” vibe began to melt away.

 

He’d begun to wonder….was it really, _really_ such an abomination to consider?  His feelings for Casey?

 

It wasn’t like he stopped seeing other girls, or had totally forsaken his attempts at normalcy.  He really did try to keep his attention wrapped up with an endless stream of other girls.  Even if his enthusiasm for such a parade had declined minimally….at least he was _trying._

 

“You don’t call me as much as you used to,” Crystal whined loudly, over the music of a house party, before leaning in.  Her breath tickled his ear.  “What are you doing next Wednesday? It’s Whiskey Night at the U-Club.”

 

He’d had a fair share of Whiskey Nights with Crystal during his first semester; she could pound them back like the best of ‘em.  And then they’d fall into bed together immediately following. Uncomplicated.

 

“Wednesdays aren’t good for me anymore,” he said. He didn’t offer an alternative.

 

“Come onnnn.  Unless you have class at 8 PM, I don’t think you have a good excuse, Derek.”  Crystal slid a hand up his shirt, over the skin of his pecs.

 

“Well, I do, and I’m saying Wednesday isn’t good.”

 

“You keeping it free for Bible Study or something?” she goaded, red lips taut with the beginnings of annoyance.  Evidently, she wasn’t used to rejection.

 

“Yeah, that’s it.”

 

“Seriously, why? You can’t make one little exception for next Wednesday? What’s so important?”

 

He kept Wednesdays free for...well, Casey.  Only a week into the semester, she’d casually suggested that they should just, well, “get dinner together instead of walking back across campus and starving.”  There was a little Chinese place across the street from their lecture hall, and it _was_ a more appealing and convenient option on a number of levels.

 

So Chinese food it was: twice a week they’d split the Student Special.  Brandishing chopsticks, they began to talk.  Like, really, really talk.

 

 They bickered about the things they’d learned in their classes, about their extracurriculars.  Derek told her about his ambition to try out for hockey in his second year, and his favorite courses (how different they were from high school)...Casey told him all about her auditions for the Drama Club and her workload through the Honors College (a lot, even for a nerd).  He usually goaded her into a chopstick battle, even though she tried to resist and would hiss, “Stop being so callow, _Derek!”_  And he’d laugh and tell her she was _just so easy_ and he’d keep goading until she’d slam her chopsticks into his and they’d have it out until finally one of them relinquished the last wonton.

 

No, he wasn’t about to jeopardize the best night of his week...not for one of his weekend girls, at least.

 

“I’m just busy on Wednesdays.”  He gulped down some beer, looking at Crystal with bored finality.

 

Crystal’s face pinched.  Now, there was no mistaking her expression.  A grimace, borne of a bruised ego.  “You got a girlfriend or something now?”

 

He swallowed, and answered, “No.”  He fought the urge to sneer.  Casey wasn’t a girlfriend.  Casey would never be a girlfriend.

 

Casey was-- somehow, bewilderingly-- much more special and terrifying than a girlfriend could ever be.

 

“I don’t believe you.” Crystal was smirking.  “Sounds like you’ve been cuffed, Derek.”

 

“Sounds like you’re disappointed,” he retorted with a smile that landed somewhere between flirtatious and venomous.

 

“I am, truthfully,” she replied, after a second.  “I really was hoping we could get together.  I mean, we always have fun together…”

 

Fuck, maybe he was overreacting.  Getting protective over his weird relationship with a girl who used to share his home address, whose mother was married to his father.  He knew it was stupid.  And yet here he was, digging himself further into a hole from which there was no clean or graceful exit.

 

It was much smarter to keep up the facade until the facade became reality again.  He wasn’t delusional enough to miss out on an easy, normal hook-up.  He softened his voice, letting his smile melt Crystal.  “Well, lucky for you...I really don’t have a girlfriend.  Wednesdays are just off-limits for me.  But my weekends are wide open.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Crystal looked at her phone. “Well, it’s officially Saturday in twenty minutes.  Why don’t we get the weekend started early?”

 

Derek obliged her.  The sex was fine-- unremarkable, but not unpleasant.  He scooted her out before 3 AM, and slept in until well past noon.

 

His usual weekend, really.  So it continued, on a half-hearted loop that felt like obligation to enact.  Follow expectations, and don’t dissect any dangerous feelings.  Feelings were hazardous enough to begin with-- letalone these ones he’d been secretly nurturing, beating back, nurturing, beating back.  Fuck feelings. 

 

Until one fateful, horrible Saturday the weekend just before Spring Break.

 

To be fair, he had Casey on his mind well before he began to party.  They were arguably closer than they’d ever been...a fact that he was sure would delight Nora.  When they were bickering and laughing together through the week, they were texting back and forth in their downtime.  He’d even tried to talk her into coming out to this party (“I’m sure all the keeners will be letting their hair down for this one, come on-- usher in Spring Break like a real college kid!”), but was unsurprised when she said she had better things to do.  He didn’t push it, mostly because he was wary of getting completely smashed with Casey anywhere nearby.  Not only would she be all over him, admonishing him at every gulp….but deep down, he was a little concerned that he might just be all over her, if given the chance.  He would try to get closer to her in a way that most assuredly would _not_ delight Nora.

 

So, he didn’t push Casey to come out that night.

 

Which was fine.

 

They had a four hour drive back together on Sunday afternoon, where they could find their rhythmic humor and rapport again before slipping back into an increasingly foreign life at the Venturi-McDonald house.  He was only a tad anxious over it.  Only seven weeks before, he’d been delighted that Casey was bringing back that feeling of “what was” into his life, a comfortable familiarity he’d missed.  She’d been like a balm for a homesickness he hadn’t realized he’d harbored.  But she quickly became...something else.  A staple of his new life, at college, away from home.  They were no longer Casey and Derek, step-siblings who loathe each other but occasionally reach a tense middleground.  They were Casey and Derek...friends. Or maybe, something different from even that.  Not step-siblings, not friends, not lovers, not enemies.  But something unique to them, that somehow simultaneously felt more like “family” and yet completely opposite of that, more so than he’d ever known.  It was quietly exhilarating, but ran under his skin like a secret he had yet to completely understand.  He found himself entranced by her for the stupidest things.  How she insisted on page dividers for her binder.  How the edges of her lips turned down when they shared a genuine moment.  How dark her eyelashes were.  Small details that had never, ever, ever crossed his mind while studying any other girl.

 

And was he crazy, or did she purposefully brush against him as they walked? Once, her fingers slid over his while reaching for a napkin at dinner.  He raised his eyes at the touch, only to find her watching him with a strange expression.  She moved her fingers, took the napkin, and they didn’t remark on the contact at all.  But then she did it again the following Wednesday. Then the Monday following.  She rested her hand on the table, close, only her fingertips touched his.  Didn’t caress, didn’t stroke, didn’t hold his hand...just rested there.  She didn’t move her fingers the whole meal and he was afraid to move his, lest the moment be shattered. Then, just that Monday, her knees knocked against his and-- instead of the flustered reaction he’d guess from her...she’d relaxed, letting one leg rest against his. He’d tentatively brushed his foot against hers, and she’d returned the gesture...by nudging his ankle.  It took all of his energy to refrain from asking in disbelief, “are you actually playing footsie with me, Casey?!” 

 

Such little moments were piling up into a confusing heap of affectionate signals and codes of the unspoken.  He was anxious for their trip back to London.  Maybe it would give them time to broach subjects that seemed too heavy, too massive for their dinner conversations.  Because no matter how deep their honest, lengthy conversations were getting at dinner...there never seemed a good moment for him to grill her on “her feelings.”  Because he was Derek Venturi.  And he didn’t _do_ feelings...letalone grill Casey McDonald on hers.

 

Hell, maybe it was because of how much time he was spending with Casey that he was even allowing himself to ruminate on “feelings” and these confusions in the first place.  Christ, that girl always made things more complicated.  Even things that _should_ be simple-- like loathing your dad’s wife’s annoying daughter-- were decidedly complicated where she-- said annoying daughter, who was also rather pretty, brilliant, and all kinds of amazing-- was involved.

 

Well, he convinced himself, that’s why weekends were so important.  Three days sans Casey, with his guy friends, picking up girls.  Getting some action.  Doing what Derek Venturi does best.

 

He could continue his obsessive musings on his and Casey’s relationship on their drive back to their parents’ house.

 

So there he was. Saturday night, at one of the liveliest house parties in Kingston. He’d just picked up a new beauty-- a dance major named Brea-- who lived nearby.  They’d stumbled back to her apartment, and into her room.  And there, stripped and sprawled on this beauty’s bed...the game changed forever.

 

His fingers were plunged into her dark hair, the muscles of his forearms tight as he gazed down at the beautiful girl between his thighs. She was expertly sucking at his cock, making his muscles lock in resistance to orgasm.   _God yes, yes._ He squeezed his eyes shut.

 

The picture on his eyelids, in his mind, was not Brea-- nor was it any girl he’d ever had sexual contact with before.  It wasn’t even an outrageous sexual fantasy of a gorgeous actress.

 

No, Derek closed his eyes in the moment just before orgasm and saw a pair of striking blue eyes, glinting with mischief and lust, her dark hair fanned out as she worked her mouth over him….that beautiful, annoying, ever-challenging, perfect mouth closing around him to suck him to a pique--

 

His groan of “Casey” was drawn from some carnal, guttural place.  He came in hard spurts-- cool air brushing over the tip of his cock as his balls tightened with every grunt.  He was vaguely aware of the fact that Brea had pulled back at the sound of another girl’s name on his lips; abstractly, he knew she was probably about to give him hell.  But he wanted to linger in this sweet, dark place where only the color of Casey blue existed in the pulsing aftermath of orgasm.

 

As guessed, the peace was infinitesimally short-lived.

 

Brea’s scandalized voice shattered it. “Casey?” she stammered.

 

His eyes slit open; his body felt weak. Brea leaned back on her haunches, face screwed up.

 

“Sorry,” he rasped in a low voice.  It didn’t even sound sincere to _his_ ears.

 

“What the fuck?  Who’s Casey?”

 

He didn’t reply.  He just reached for the box of tissues next to her bed.

 

“Is she an ex, or something?” Brea’s voice was growing watery.  “Why the fuck-- did you just use me?  Fucking fantasizing about your ex?”

 

“She’s not an ex,” Derek growled.  The four beers he’d pounded were starting to catch up to him.  

 

“Who is she?”  He felt Brea’s weight shift on the bed near his knees.  Then, she was standing over him.

 

“Nobody. Don’t worry about it.”  The night was not salvageable.  He was not stupid enough to think otherwise.  Not even the famed Venturi charm could get him out of this.

 

“I deserve to know, if I’m giving you head and you’re thinking about some girl--” her voice suddenly snapped into silence.

 

Derek hunched over to pull on his jeans.  “What?”

 

“Is-- _is_ Casey a girl?”

 

The question was so jarring that it took him a moment to laugh.

 

But once he started, he found he couldn’t stop.  The fucking absurdity of it all.  Everything.  A gorgeous girl at his whim, and here he was-- thinking about Casey.  In a definitively sexual way.  But really, he was already thinking about her-- all the time.  For all the other girls he’d been seeing-- all of his beautiful, funny, rotating-door-variety weekend girls-- he never, never stopped thinking about Casey.

 

And it was then, with his shirt rumpled between his palms and staring at poor, humiliated, one-night-Brea...that Derek Venturi realized that these _feelings_ he’d conveniently ignored were far beyond what he’d ever considered before.

 

“What are you laughing at?” Brea’s voice was livid and low.

 

“To hell with it all. Jesus Christ.” He yanked the shirt over his head. “I really am sorry, Brea.”

 

“Whatever.  You’re such a fucking prick.”  She resolutely turned around.  “Just leave.  Find your way out.”

 

The walk home was a blur.  He felt like he’d been sucker-punched.

  
Had that really just happened?

 

Derek was in _deep shit_.

 

////////////

 

“Are you mad at me or something?”

 

“No, but if you ask one more time, I will be. Just drop it,” he barked.  

 

The sun was giving him a migraine.  That, and he’d barely slept the night before.  After he’d gotten back from Brea’s place, he proceeded to stare at the ceiling for three hours straight.  He felt like he’d barely closed his eyes when his phone was blasting Casey’s ringtone from somewhere on the floor.

 

He tried to ignore it.  Then on the sixth attempt, he finally answered and was informed that (if they wanted to stick to their plan, as they obviously should want to do, naturally) they were supposed to leave by 10:30 AM.

 

“What time is it?” he asked with a chapped throat.

 

“Eleven.  So I’m walking over to your dorm.  I’ve got the keys for Prince so I’ll load up my stuff then help you with yours, if you want.”

 

She appeared at his door looking like Mary Damn Sunshine, as always.  His stomach was twisted into a knot he didn’t think he’d ever unscramble.  

 

“Good morning!” she chirped.  He thought his expression was blank, but whatever she saw on his face caused that smile to fade. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.  Partied too hard.”

 

“Oh.  Gross.  There’s no one else in there, is there?”  She lifted to her toes, glancing over his shoulder toward his rumpled (but empty) bed.  

 

“No,” he ground out, inexplicably rankled by her assumption.  Even his roommate had taken off early.  His roommate was never really around, thankfully.

 

“Ah.” She set back flat on her feet, concern etched over her features. “Want me to drive?”

 

“Not a chance.  Let’s go.”

 

The first hour was Casey’s failed attempt at conversation; she tried everything in the book.  He knew she was trying, and he felt like a real jerk for letting her flounder like a trout on concrete...but he also felt like he was staring directly into the sun every time he looked at her.  And when her blue eyes flicked to him, guilt scratched through his gut.  Her eyes were questioning, open and earnest-- her fucking gorgeous eyes-- and yet the color, that Casey blue color, was an indictment unto itself.  An accusation. 

 

And the worst of it all: he’d _said her name_.  

 

Derek had crossed the line and fantasized about her before, but in the past, it was him-- just him and even then he’d never been so bold as to acknowledge his fixation aloud.  Now, as if speaking her name was giving his heart’s deepest sin permission to burst into life, it was a titanic reality that was crushing him from all sides.

 

And now she wouldn’t drop it; she wanted to know why the conversation was hard.  Why he didn’t want to talk.  If he was mad at her.  Won’t you look at me, Derek.  What’s your problem, De- _rek_.

 

His problem?  He was livid with himself.  But she couldn’t know that or she’d ( _of course)_ want to know why.

 

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

 

Finally, she huffed a breath and angled herself away from him, toward the window.  His eyes flicked over, using the movement to take in the regal curve of her back, her thighs, before her profile turned to address him.  “Fine.  Don’t tell me why you’re mad.  I don’t care, anyway.  It was probably stupid.  Some stupid problem about a girl. But you have no right to take it out on me.”

 

He wanted to guffaw at the irony.  Except that it wasn’t funny. 

 

She fell asleep about an hour out of London, and he was distracted by her soft breathing as her head dropped back toward center, toward him.  He could smell her perfume and it made him _want._

 

He threw the brakes on too hard at a corner near their house, jerking her out of sleep.

 

“De- _rek,_ ” she snarled.  

 

He smirked.

 

“What’s your problem today?  What did I do?” she repeated.

 

“I told you not to ask me that or I really would get pissed.”

 

“Then stop doing all this attention-seeking bull _shit_.”

 

He didn’t have a response for that.  Both of them were simmering in tense silence as they pulled into their parents’ driveaway.

 

The next six hours passed in a blur, being pulled this way and that and away from each other and back together, every direction.  It was both warming and off-putting, all at once.  And seeing Casey hugging their siblings, holding baby Simon so expertly, had his heart contracting in a way that surely was damning.  He scowled every time her too-innocent eyes tried to catch his, and the scowl on his face didn’t break for an instant when she was nearby.  He was always susceptible to Casey, but after last night, the dam was well-and-truly-broke.  He had to be on-guard.  He had to be overly cold to make sure there weren’t any cracks.  Of all places to crack, to let his damnable _feelings_ slip...it couldn’t be here.  Not in the house where it all began, where their shared infant brother was lovingly doted upon, where every square inch seemed to scream “it’s forbidden, you asshole” and every corner pressed a memory into his raw, aching heart to remind him of what he’d probably (absolutely) always wanted and couldn’t ever, ever have.

 

This humiliating revelation ensured that by the fourth day of break, Derek was nothing short of exhausted.  Combined with the scant amount of sleep he’d gotten before leaving campus, he could feel exhaustion tickling at the edges of his eyes.  He’d only made it worse by going to the bar with Sam every night since he’d come home.  He was drinking too much.  He knew it.  Too much booze, too little sleep-- but anything to distract from this farce he’d landed himself in.  

 

At night, he dreamed of Casey’s blue eyes accusing him, her jeering insults in his ear as she worked his cock with hot hands.  He was disgraced in those dreams; he could taste rejection when he woke up, as plain as if she had slapped him.   He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore.  He loathed himself.

 

And worse, Casey was starting to look at him with the same resentment that she used to in high school.  He didn’t blame her.  He was a right ass.

 

He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. He wanted to go back to a week ago, where the complications that surrounded them like barbed wire were only theoretical and part of their past life; where their real life was Queens’ and Dr. Peng’s class and chopstick fights and check-in texts and discussions of the future and knees resting against each others’.  He’d been slowly easing his way into it all.  Wasn’t that hard enough?  Soft consideration of their situation, unhurried speculation on what their family and friends might say if one day Derek and Casey returned home hand-in-hand.  He’d wondered if, with some distance from the house that they once shared, it would eventually become indisputably clear that neither Casey nor Derek were anything close to siblings--and that their adolescent rivalry was perhaps more flirtatious than petty.

 

When they were younger, it used to give him a rush, to watch her whip into an emotional tornado, because _fuck he had her attention and she was wound around his finger as taut as thread, and he loved to strum her into a frenzy because it made him feel so alive to have her glittering glowering eyes on him._ But now….well, now, he’d gotten accustomed to _all_ facets.  A supportive Casey, softening his edges and being his go-to confidante.  A playmate and challenger to remind him that life existed beyond anything temporary-- high school, college, girls, parties.  Some things were just solidly and unflinchingly _steadfast._  She’d always understood him better than anyone, anticipated him better than even his own flesh-and-blood ever could...and she cared more than anyone else ever had.  He still could get a rise out of her, and still felt the rush from doing so.  But it wasn’t enough.  Now he craved it all.

 

He craved it all and was gutted by the inevitable tragedy he was writing for himself-- where he lost it all, because he wasn’t supposed to want it to begin with.

 

Not that it mattered.  He’d ensured his doom by overturning it all at break-neck speed.  All because of his stupid mouth and his stupid brain and his stupid orgasm.  And this stupid trip.  He wasn’t equipped to process this so quickly.  It was too fast. It was on a disastrous spiral before it even began.  

 

Derek had gone from mulling over “how to talk about feelings, starring Derek Venturi and Casey McDonald” to “don’t look at any of these despicable thoughts too closely, you desperate fucker, and just hope you can ignore these long enough to expire in your own personal hell.”  And, predictably, because he was just as much of a fucking idiot as he’d always been-- he began to treat her with the same disdain that he’d wielded defensively all through their younger years.

 

Yeah, the resentment was slowly bleeding into her-- one hour at a time.  And Derek was as good as sticking the pin in.

 

It was Day Four when she finally confronted him.

 

The kids were all at school, Simon at the nanny’s, George at work.  He’d gotten up to use the bathroom around eight, and heard clattering in the kitchen.  Voices-- Casey and Nora’s-- lifted up the stairs.  He brushed his teeth, but didn’t want to be bothered in making an appearance. He slouched back to his bedroom before either McDonald woman knew he was awake.  

 

A short time later, the front-door slammed shut.

 

Blissful reprieve.

 

For a moment. His bedroom door swung open.

 

As if conjured by the hand of a God who hated him, Casey stood in his doorway, illuminated in the morning sun like a fucking angel.  Except her eyes were like hard ice.  “I thought we had a good thing going, Derek.”

 

His heart stuttered. “What?”

 

“You heard me. I thought we were--” her words stuttered infinitesimally, “friends.” Her voice was a quiet, wounded growl. Petulant.

 

He stared back at her, eyes wide, unsure of what to say and weirdly entranced by the sunlit-soaked outline of her body in the doorframe.

 

 _No._ That deep, gnawing feeling of **_want_** seized him.  He couldn’t let her see it, sense it, suspect it.

 

Setting his jaw, he scoffed and flicked his hand in her direction. “Save it and let me get back to sleep.”

 

“No!” She stomped further into his room. _Shitshitshitno._ He’d had a dream only the night before, where she’d stomped into his room, mounted him and ridden him until her body shook with release.  He’d woken up in the dead of the night, biting back a moan of agony.  “I want to know what the hell happened.  I thought it was just, like, shock at being home again or something, but no, you were nasty to me before we even left Queen’s.”

 

“You’re overanalyzing.  Give it a rest, Princess and find someone else to annoy.”

 

“You’re acting like we’re in high school again,” she accused him. “Why? Why aren’t you being normal with me?  Like-- college normal?”

 

“Normal?” With a jaw so tight he could hear it click, he steeled himself to sneer, “What’s my ‘normal’ to you, Casey?  Because aside from the two nights a week that I charitably set aside for keener quality time, my definition of ‘normal’ is exactly what it’s always been.  And if you’d go out to a worthwhile party on campus once in a while, you’d probably like my college ‘normal’ as much as you liked my high school ‘normal.’”  He felt immature, and like a liar laying it on too thick-- but he had to establish a boundary before this got any worse.

 

He’d let it get too far already.

 

Casey regarded him with a narrowed, flinty gaze.  “I think you’re full of shit.”

 

“Do you?” His eyebrows shot up, patronizing as ever.

 

“Yes.  You like spending time with me; we talk all the time, and we have fun.  We’re closer than we’ve ever been and it’s great.  I know I’m happy when we hang out and you seem pretty happy too.  You’re being a jerk because-- well, I don’t know why.”

 

His eyebrows stayed arched.  “Are you sure you aren’t giving yourself too much credit?”

 

Something in her face flickered.  She didn’t concede, though.  Arms crossed across her chest-- he needed to ignore how thin her t-shirt was-- and only a foot from his languid pose on the bed, she didn’t budge.  “Something happened to make you pissed at me.  What was it.”

 

“You didn’t do anything.  Jesus.  Don’t you have something else to do?  Have you even bothered seeing anyone since you came home?  Maybe I wanted some time away-- don’t we see enough of each other at Queens’?  Do you have to suffocate me here in London, too?” 

 

That did it.  The tension released from her face, and her jaw and arms went loose.  She stared at him, hurt.  “Seriously?”

 

“Maybe,” he snapped back, churlish.

 

“You-- feel like I suffocate you, at school?”

 

 _No, fuck, I can’t get enough of you and it’s scary as hell and if you knew how badly I want you--  you’d hate me even more than you do right now.  I_ want _to be suffocated by you, drown in you._

 

He swallowed, and when he said, “Sometimes,” he hoped she bought it.  Even as his heart hammered in his ribs.

 

Silence stretched out between them.

 

“Well, I didn’t know,” she finally said in a small voice.  She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was sort of eyeing his floor, the posters on his walls, the pile of junk on his desk.  “I guess I didn’t really think of it that way.”

 

He sucked breath in through his teeth, his heart crunched into pieces at the expression on her face.

 

Then, all fire and fight again, she stared him down with watering hell in her eyes and snarled, “You know, if you didn’t like eating with me, you could’ve just said so.  And _you_ sit next to _me_ every class, asshole.”

 

He opened his mouth to retort (beg? confess?) but she had whirled around and was gone.

 

The front door slammed again.

 

When her chair was empty at dinner, he tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It didn’t help when Edwin asked, “Where’s Casey?”

 

“I think she went out with Emily.”

 

“Awww, she took a page from Derek’s book.” Lizzie smirked and took a big bite of honey-glazed carrots.

 

“I’m glad you stayed in tonight, Smerek,” Marti pronounced from her end of the table.

 

“It is good of you to hang around tonight, Derek,” George said warmly.

 

Derek somehow fitted his face with a smile. “Yeah, well, it was time to spend some quality time with the fam.”

 

“Minus Casey,” Lizzie interjected around the food in her mouth.

 

“Right.  Can’t forget about Casey,” Derek grumbled with an eyeroll.   _Casey, part of his family._ He was so fucked.

 

“They see each other enough at school.” Edwin clapped him on the back.  “Our turn!”

 

“I do think it’s so nice that you two are really connecting in college, Derek,” Nora told him, features soft and warm and _motherly (motherly to him because he was her step-son and he was in love with her daughter and if she knew, she would be sick)._  “I always thought you two would really click, if you gave it a proper chance.”

 

They _had._ And it was the best thing in his life.  And he was obligated to destroy it before it left ruins in its path.

 

As if to punctuate his half-brother’s angst, Simon slammed his plastic bowl down on his high-chair tray.  Nora cooed at him and smoothed back his hair.

 

“You know, she’s right, son,” George agreed, pointing a fork at Derek.  “I think I always knew you two would get tight.”

 

Derek, Casey, and “tight” were coincidentally a combination of words he’d recently been a little too obsessed with.

 

“I don’t see it,” Lizzie said archly, looking at Derek with some censure. “I think you still act like you did last year, like you always did before.  You seem like you’re fighting.”

 

“Well, your sister has been saying all semester that Derek makes college feel a lot more like home,” Nora told Lizzie, then sent another sunny smile his way.

 

Funny-- that’s exactly the word that had wedged itself between his heart and lungs and ribs every time Casey opened her mouth these past few months.  And it had nothing to do with the pastoral family dinner scene here, but something more intangible and frightening and wondrous by far.  Well, no matter how Casey had meant it, he’d ensured there was no hope going forward.

 

Nora was still talking.  “She really is so happy to spend time with you, Derek.  Thanks for looking out for her.  You always have her best interests in mind.  I really do appreciate it.”

 

He was afraid that when he opened his mouth, he was going to wretch.  Luckily, he was able to respond in a believable voice: “Yeah, always. It’s no problem.”

 

Simon-- half Venturi, half McDonald-- slammed his bowl down on the tray again, a cry burbling in the back of his throat.

 

////////////

 

They went bowling that night.  Casey didn’t come, and wasn’t back when they returned.

 

“Should we be worried?” Lizzie was dressed in pajamas, halfway up the stairs.

 

Nora finished wiping down the table with a dish rag, unbothered. “No, Lizzie.  She’s old enough now to make good choices.  I’m sure she’s fine.”

 

Derek grouchily eyed the clock. Nearly midnight.

 

“You staying up?”  Nora mounted the stairs, too.

 

“Yeah, just for a while.  I’ve missed my chair.  Did my duty with family time, and now I’ve gotta give the chair the attention she deserves. Maybe watch some Hockey.”  He twirled the remote in his hands convincingly.

 

“Okay, just keep the volume down.  Night, Derek.”

 

After Nora left, and every footstep in the house had sunken into silence, and there was nothing but the vague commentary of hockey game re-run, Derek stood for a stretch.  The clock now read 1:35.  With lips sucked in a straight line, he wandered through the back of the house, out onto the back porch.

 

How long he was planted on the step outside, he couldn’t say.  But the soft pad of Casey’s footsteps through the grass, cutting through the yard (undoubtedly from Emily’s) made him look up.  She froze when she caught his eye.

  
“Derek,” she murmured.

 

“Home late.” His voice and face were neutral.  She looked beautiful.  Just as beautiful in the moonlight as she’d looked in the sunlight this morning.  An angel in the glaring light of the sun, and mythical in the moonlight. Her hair was loose again, curls cascading and catching starlight and trying to damn him anew.

 

“Yeah, well--” she stiffened further, if it was possible. “You reminded me I had people to see.”

 

“How is dear Emily?” He knew he was being obvious in his prying.

 

“She’s great. Doing great. Now let me by, I’m tired--”

 

“Did Emily keep you out this late?” he asked amicably.  
  
She paused, as if considering, then said brazenly, “Not just Emily.”

 

He had a horrible feeling he knew the next words out of her mouth--

 

“I saw Truman, too.” Her right eyebrow rose with challenge.

 

“You must be fucking kidding me.”  Derek stood now, looking down at her in shock.  “Why?!”

 

“Because,” she retorted quietly. “I wanted to go out, and let my hair down, and-- well, Truman is in town for Spring Break--”

 

“Yeah, how good of him to make sure his standard schedule of _doing nothing_ was cleared just in time to take advantage of the niave co-eds back in town.”

 

“Shut up, De-rek,” she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “And just what are you implying?! Take advantage of me?! Niave?!”

 

“Oh, c’mon Casey.  It’s not like you went off to college and had a sexual awakening that suddenly makes you able to handle a rat like Truman.” He could smell her usual perfume, but there was an undertone of beer on her breath.  “You forget, I _know_ what you’ve been up to at college, and hosting Monologue Night is about as close as you’ve gotten to oral--”

 

Her eyes flashed and she made to move past him. He caught her easily, the polyester of her jacket clinging to his hand.

 

“Sorry, that was rude.” He took a breath. “What’s gotten into you? And into Emily, for that matter? She hates Truman!”

 

“Well, unlike _you_ , Emily wants me to make my own decisions.  You know what, Derek? That actually brings me to my next point.  I have something to say.” She was still whispering, but the necessity of low volume made her face all the more flustered in her efforts. “You have no idea what you want, do you?  On one hand, you _hate_ when I go off and live my own life.  You always have, even if you pretend you don’t!  Somehow, you always find a way to barge back in, don’t you?”

 

He felt like the oxygen had been punched out of his gut, but Casey wasn’t done.  She was right up in his face, finger jabbing at his chest muscle, mad as a hellcat.

 

“On the _other_ hand, you want to keep me an arm’s length away but not too far, just enough to mock me but still be able to order me around, to make me feel bad when I start to think you have a heart and care about me. You trap me into thinking we’re _friends,_ ” she spits the word, “then you totally eviscerate my feelings!”

 

She’d been close plenty of times before, but there was no denying the pounding in his chest this time.  Not even relentless guilt was enough to cool the temptation pumping through his veins.

 

She wasn’t done.  Casey was never done until she gave as good as she got.  He loved that about her; he was certain she’d be like that with whatever guy she deigned to be.  And he knew instinctively, like he knew his own flaws and talents, that that passion would be all consuming...it would swallow her whole if she unleashed it. He wanted to be the one she unleashed it on.  He always had been.  He was hungry for her passion-- insatiable for it.  She was passion incarnate. 

 

“You are such a prick! You make me feel like the Ugly Stepsister you just can’t shake.  You just-- like, I don’t know! Get off on making me miserable!  Is that it, Derek? What thrill do you get out of this?”

 

He was watching her with a slackened jaw, somewhat dazed by her proximity, by her perfume.  Maybe it was because he was starving for her, in the handful of days he’d kept himself away.

 

“Answer me,” she hissed.  “Why do you do what you do?”

 

And Derek, feeling like some cosmic force had him in its grip, did the only thing his brain could command: his hands gripped her hips, yanking her close, and he slammed his mouth against hers.  Desperate to taste, to feel, to draw just an iota of that passion from her lips and take it into himself forever-- maybe he could sustain himself off this one moment.  He’d cling to it forever and try to forget about the day his dad ever brought this perfectly imperfect girl into his life and uselessly tried to cram her into the category of “sister.”

 

Casey resisted for a second-- he felt her hands on his shoulders, about to push.  But then they curled in, clutching him to her.  Her tongue slipped against his, her lips moving in a dance that he’d imagined countless times.  She tasted like beer, sure, but beneath that, she was uniquely Casey.  He held her to him, with a feeling similar to starvation rising in his gut.  He couldn’t get close enough.  If the universe was kind, it would’ve let them meld together in this moment and slip away into something immaterial and unburdened and solely themselves.  

 

A jolt of pleasurable shock shot through his frame when he realized that Casey-- beautiful, annoying, fucking perfect Casey-- was grinding against him.  Right there, in their parents’ backyard, she was pressing against him with the slightest movement rocking her hips. 

 

She tore her mouth from his with a gasp, her fingers bunched in the fabric of his shirt.  His eyes searched hers, drinking in the blue like it was ambrosic.  Her hips continued to rock, teasing his cock until it was unmistakably straining against the denim of his jeans.  

 

“Derek,” she breathed.

 

He kissed her again, before she could say anything else.  Before she could tell him “let’s stop” or “you shouldn’t have done that,” or “we can’t ever do this again.”  No, he couldn’t let that be it; that was too brief.  He need just a little more time; another taste, another moment of exquisite torture with her lush form fit against him. He sucked on her tongue and bucked his hips ever-so-gently against hers.  Casey made a sound of surprise, like a moan.

  
“Shh,” he murmured against the shell of her ear.  “You’ll wake them up.”

 

Casey pulled back, staring at him with an expression of wonder.  “Derek, this is crazy.” Her lips looked so pink; he’d never wanted her more.

 

“Maybe it is.” His lips traveled the line between her ear and shoulder, dancing over the goose-prickled flesh softly.    _Christ,_ what it took to resist sucking on the pale skin there, at the junction of her neck.  He wanted to burst the blood vessels under the force of his kiss; wanted a red mark to bloom there in glaring incrimination of this moment.  It would serve as a reminder to her-- to him-- that even if it was just for a single hour,  she _was his._ He laved the spot with his tongue, relishing the shudders that skittered through her frame.

 

Then, pure bliss: “Mark me,” she murmured.

 

She moaned when he sucked on her skin, her breaths stirring his hair.  Her arms locked around him.  When finally he pulled back, with the taste of Casey’s skin still lingering on his lips, his eyes couldn’t budge from the reddish purple hickey he’d kissed into her shoulder.

 

“Is it obvious?”  Her question was a low whisper.

 

He nodded, mutely, afraid to speak and spook her.

 

She nodded, too.  She ran a finger over the wet skin, eyebrows pitched upward. Her voice was unsure.  “Um, Derek?”

 

His voice was thick. “Yes?”

 

“Are you drunk?”

 

After a moment, he finally shook his head once. No. His eyes burned into hers.

 

She swallowed. “Oh.”

 

“Are-- are you?” The pit in his stomach multiplied.

 

“No.”

 

Thank God.

 

She pinched her lips together, studying him again. “I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Fuck. That’s a rarity.”  Derek cleared his throat.  She smirked at the barb.  “I don’t either.  You’re supposed to be the one who’s good with words.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, there is that, isn’t there?” After a brief pause, she stepped forward again, palm cupping the back of Derek’s neck as she lowered his face to hers.  When she kissed him, it was distinctly _sweeter_ , and not nearly as starved as his own kiss had been.  Still, he returned even her tender kiss with some urgency.

 

When her mouth “Case-- you’ve got to know--”

 

_I love you, I’ve always loved you, you’re everything I never knew I wanted, don’t tell me it’s impossible, let’s disappear together, touch me._

 

“--there’s a million things I want to say,” he said honestly, voice raw and quiet. He ran his lips over her forehead, over her cheekbones, her jaw.

 

She swallowed, her fingers twitching against his shoulders.  Then, carefully, she whispered, “Maybe it’s best if you don’t say any of them.”

 

His chest felt hollow.

 

As if she could sense the change, she clarified, “Just, not yet.  Let’s...be careful with what we say.  You’re important to me, Derek.  And I don’t want you to say something and regret it.  It’s been an emotional week for us.  And...I just don’t want either of us to get in over our heads.”

 

That hollowness didn’t ease.

 

“Der?”

 

“Yeah.  I mean, that’s fine.  Smart, probably.”  He pulled away.  How was it that the heart that had been so frantic and loud only minutes before, now felt like total grey space?

 

Casey’s eyebrows upturned. “Derek.  I’m not an idiot.  I can see your eyes and I know you’re hurt by what I’m saying but-- you really shouldn’t be.”

 

He scoffed. “Whatever.  Maybe you’re right.  Maybe this was a stupid move.  Lunacy.”

 

She didn’t buy it.  “Derek, stop it.  There’s no need to whip out the defense technique on me.” Then remembering to keep her voice down, she whispered, “There’s so much I want to say to you, too.  I’ve been wanting to say, for a while.  I’ve been afraid to.  But just because this moment is so good-- and the kiss was amazing-- doesn’t mean I want to overload it with...with everything, you know?  I want us to process it and do it for real.”

 

Derek’s eyebrows rose.

 

Immediately, her cheeks flamed red, and she threw up both hands to her cheeks. “No, not _it,_ though I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it with you, because I woul-- you know what, I didn’t mean _that_ so that’s not the point right now--”

 

His mouth popped open.  “What?”  Fuck, he was instantly hard.  Had he heard her right?

 

She scrunched her eyes shut, face blister-red. “I’m saying, I want us to-- do this right.  Because the past few months of my life have been _the best_ and I can’t imagine not having you in my life.  I don’t want to scare you off, and I don’t want to scare myself.”

 

He didn’t speak.  All he could think was-- fuck, Casey always knew how to put into words things that he didn’t even know he was feeling.  So, he nodded, and said, “Agreed.”

 

“But.” She cleared her throat once. Looked at the ground, then, with a very Casey-like resolution, reached for his hands.  She twined her fingers with his.  Those _eyes_. They crinkled around the edges with a smile.  “But, Derek, that was an amazing kiss.”

 

He couldn’t help it as a smirk bloomed on his face. “Oh yeah?” he replied smugly.  “Surely you’re not surprised.”

 

He expected an eyeroll or a “De- _rek”_ but instead...Casey smiled, so genuinely that his knees nearly buckled.

 

“Actually, no.  I’m not surprised at all.”

 

She pressed a quick, sweet kiss to his mouth.  His heart was still hammering as she pulled away. With a finger to her lips and a “shhh” she slipped through the backdoor.  

 

Derek followed, unable to fight back a grin of his own.

 

 


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> // immediately following Spring Break, arriving back at school //

 

// back at school, Sunday night \\\

 

  
"No, no -- I didn't say nearly as much as I wanted to," laughed Derek as he elbowed his way into his dorm room, dufflebag practically exploding with all the crap he'd crammed into it.  Casey was right on his heels, shouldering her bag. His roommate wouldn’t be home until Monday, probably after classes. His parents lived less than thirty minutes from campus, so he didn’t usually come back until absolutely necessary.  As far as Derek was concerned….he had free run of the place for another 18 hours.

  
"De-rek! Was that totally necessary? You should've just let me deal with him."

  
"The guy was ogling your chest, Casey. It was disgusting."  The guy working the gas station counter had the subtlety of a freight train, his eyes bugging out.  A sharp, stinging possessiveness had snaked through Derek's brain, and he'd slammed his fist on the counter, snapping, "Over here, buddy. Keep your eyes on me unless you want 'em black-and-blue."  He was pleased that he'd filled out his leather jacket more this year, finally and truly taking on the physique of a hockey player. His arms had always been strong, but now anybody sizing him up would be conclusively wary of picking a fight with him.

  
Gas station boy was no fool.  His eyes snapped back to Derek and didn't so much as blink in Casey’s direction the entire time that they were at the counter.

  
  
"You sound jealous," Casey said lightly.  Derek turned to face her, heart swelling as her brow rose flirtatiously.  The left corner of her mouth turned down in the adorable way he'd been sort of obsessed with for…well, for as long as he could remember.

  
"No, I'm astounded.  There's nothing to look at," he said, gesturing wildly to her chest.

  
  
Her jaw dropped, and with a huff, she smacked his arm.  She dropped her bag next to his bed. "You jerk! Not only a jerk but a liar!"

  
  
"What are you trying to say?" Derek asked in a saintly tone, rubbing his arm demonstratively.

  
  
"I'm saying…well, Derek, I'm not blind.  All of Spring Break you were staring at my chest during dinner." Did her chin just lift arrogantly?  He smirked.

  
  
"You're mistaken, Casey."  His eyes dropped to her chest. "I made a point not to look…until the back porch happened.  Then I just couldn't help myself. I've been trying to distract myself for months, now. I finally cracked."

  
  
"You've been trying to distract yourself from my chest this whole time?" she asked disbelievingly, lip curled in a grimace.

  
  
"No, from everything.  I've been checking you out non-stop since the first day of Econ," he confessed, cheeks coloring a bit.  Luckily, Casey's cheeks flushed deep pink, erasing any sense of shame that might've tried to sneak up on him.  Seeing her blush made him brazen.

  
  
"Well, you were sweet to say something to the gas station guy.  Even if it was a little much."

  
  
"I was defending your honor."  Licking his lips, he stepped closer to her.  He cleared his throat. "In fact, it would be pretty rude not to reward me for such a noble act, don't you think?"

  
  
Her eyes narrowed and she sat back on her heels.  When she spoke, it was textbook Casey. "I think you misunderstand the very point of nobility then, of courtly love.  It's fueled by respect that trumps mortal desire-it's almost like worship.”

  
  
When he spoke, his voice was low enough that it rasped.  "I could worship you."

 

Her lips parted, but she kept on in her inane Casey talk.  Nerves. Now she talked faster, pitch higher. He could read her so fucking well it was scary. "Well, I mean— you're talking about courtly love.  The finest form of love, between a lady and her dashing knight. Did you know courtly love usually meant that the lovers never ---”

  
He smirked, advancing still.  "Never what?"

  
  
"Well."  Her eyes were flickering up and down his form, and he swore he could watch her pupils expand.  She breathed out softly, then said, "Um, they never… never consummate." Her voice was small. Those blue eyes lifted to meet his, glittering with something wondrous in the depths.

  
  
"Oh, really?" His smirk was fully seductive.  He watched her from under his lashes. "Is that what you like, Case?  Is 'courtly love' your style?"

  
  
"Um." She licked her lips, now, before meeting his gaze again.  They were so close that, when she flexed her hand, he felt her knuckles bump against the top of his thigh by chance. "No, I don't think it is."

  
He raised a hand to cup her jaw.  Her skin was like satin under his thumb. He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips; the memory of her taste sent blood rushing directly to his cock.  “Good. I don’t think it would suit either one of us very well. But... worshipping... worshipping, I could do.”

 

With that, he pressed his mouth to hers, eager to taste her for the first time in three days.  Her lips immediately parted for him, and with a surge of triumph, his tongue brushed against hers.  Kissing Casey was a holy act all unto itself; other girls didn’t compare in the slightest. Perhaps it was how well he knew her, or how long he’d desired her, or maybe Casey was just something special-- whatever it was, Derek was hopelessly addicted and already couldn’t get enough.  His hand remained on her jaw, feeling the muscles of her neck flex and move with every movement of their tongues. His other hand snaked its way to her waist, dragging her close against him. Her curves were lush against his hard (and getting harder by the second) body.

 

She wound her fingers in his hair, and coaxed him backward-- backward, until she reclined flat on his bed and he balanced himself above her gingerly.  His denim jeans were far too tight. His eyes flitted down her body, including her pale purple button-up. Her buttons were strained against her breasts in this position, causing a little “v” to pucker on either side of each demure, pearl button.  His mouth watered. He met her gaze, and with a rickety, passion-drawn voice, said, “That gas station guy would be in heaven right now, if he saw what I’m seeing.”

 

“Oh yeah?”  Her cheeks pinkened as she slipped a hand from his hair.  Her fingers released a button, then a second. “What about now?”

 

Derek’s mouth was dry and he felt like he was trying to focus on a single note buried in the whole symphony.  “He--uh-- he--”

 

“Let me rephrase,” she murmured, voice kittenish.  “I don’t care about what that guy thinks, or any guy.  I want to know what _you_ think, Derek.”

 

Another button slipped free.  Her white-cotton bra was visible now, the shape of her breasts apparent and perfect.  As far as he was concerned, she had the finest body he’d ever seen-- and he’d barely seen anything yet.  His voice nearly cracked as he said, “I think you’re fucking perfect. In every way, Casey.”

 

Casey smiled at him, so blindingly bright and sincere that his throat constricted.  

 

“Derek?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I said I wanted to do this right…”

 

He stiffened.  His hands remained fisted in the sheets on either side of her, his body balanced above hers so as to not crowd her.  “I know.”

 

“And let me say.  It’s been pretty torturous, being at home and behaving myself.  Not when I want to-- feel you. More of you. I want to do this right, meaning, I want it to be on our terms.  And I want it to mean something, and be natural. Does that make sense?”

 

Sort of. “Mmm.” Actually, no, he didn’t know what the hell she meant at all.  But he suspected that she didn’t want to hump wildly on the bed, like his unfortunately-primal instincts were trying to goad him into doing.  He held himself still, trying not to be distracted by her perfectly glistening lips and glittering eyes and flushed skin and sweet body heat only inches away--

 

Except Casey was always a surprise.  “I want you to touch me. I want to touch you.  That’s what would be natural to me, and mean something to me right now.  I didn’t want us to do anything at home and feel pressured to hide.”

 

He knew that all too well.  In the nights following their first kiss, his depraved mind had run away with him on countless occasions.  “I know.”

 

“Do you?” her eyebrow lifted challengingly.  Her hands wound in his hair again, and she dragged his ear to her mouth, where she whispered, “I mean: I don’t want to be quiet when you touch me for the first time.”

 

His breath left him in a _whoosh,_ his lungs struggling to keep up.  Leave it to Casey. He pulled back with wide eyes. “Case, you gotta be sure--”

 

“Oh, I am, Derek.” She wriggled underneath him.  “I mean, I might want us to wait on-- the final act, you know...but if I have to go another day without properly being touched by you, I’ll go crazy.”

 

Because he was Derek, and because he couldn’t resist, he quipped, “You’re already crazy, Spacey.”

 

“You have no idea, Derek-a,” she countered. “Now, are you going to take off my shirt, or take off yours first?”

 

He whipped his own off with such lightning speed, he risked dislocating his shoulder.  Then, breathing out shakily, his fingers trailed down her front reverently. “I’m going to assume you like this shirt.”

 

“Yeah.  Why?”

 

“I was thinking about ripping it the rest of the way, but...I’ll just have to deal with a thousand more buttons.  What’s another hour of torture, after four years?”

 

Her breath shuttered, causing him to look up at her, startled. “What?” he asked stiffly. Did he do something wrong? _Fuck, fuck, no, he couldn’t ruin this--_

 

“You-- four years?” Her eyebrows pitched in the center.  She looked so adorably confused that his heart constricted.

 

“Well, y-yeah.” Did he just fuckin’ stutter?  God, he wasn’t a fourteen-year-old virgin, so why was he acting like it.  He cleared his throat. Defensively, he added, “I mean...I wasn’t a creep or anything, if that’s--”

 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.  Not at all.” She shifted, then, with a shaky laugh, admitted, “I don’t know, that’s really sexy.  I don’t know if I believe you, but if you’re trying to seduce me, Derek Venturi, you’re doing a good job.”

 

“It’s the truth,” he stated. Relief mingled with a desire so heady that it was making his ears pound.  He undid a fourth button. “Took me forever to realize it, and even longer to admit it, but _God,_ I used to get so fuckin’ jealous when you flirted with other guys.  I wanted to do crazier and crazier shit just to make sure I had your attention, in some way.  Wanted to flaunt my girlfriends in front of you. Get a rise out of you.”

 

“Did you just realize all this, this year?” she asked in an awed voice.  Her fingers trailed up and down his bare back.

 

“Yup.  Or, at least...really, really realized it.  I’d thought about you before, about us before, but never let myself get too far.  I think I knew instinctively--” he snapped his mouth shut, suddenly feeling like he was saying too much.

 

In a gentle voice, she coaxed, “What?”

 

He met her eyes, and knew that she could read every raw, yearning, unspoken thought in them.  “I think I knew if-- if I let myself fall for you...it would be the start of something. Something I’d…”  he didn’t know how to finish.

 

Casey did it for him. “Something we’d never be able to come back from,” she said in a totally reasonable, understanding tone.

 

He nodded.

 

“I guess I should say it again-- I want this to be on our terms, when it’s natural.  I don’t want to scare you off.” She clarified, “I’m not scared at all...kinda shocking, actually, how _not_ scared I am....and well, I think it’s best to be honest with you when I say, once we do this...I might really, really have a hard time letting you go.  It would’ve been hard enough when we were best friends, but...if we do anything else, it’ll be, like, impossible. Is that weird to say?” her voice suddenly sounded insecure.

 

"No," he replied.  He was fascinated by the dark lashes under her eyes.  It wasn't the first time he'd noticed them, but it was the first time he felt he could freely study them.

 

"I've had feelings for you...for a while," she said quietly.  "Paul asked me once in Grade 12, and I was so outraged by the idea that he backed off, but...I was more terrified that I was being obvious.  I had a little crush, mostly from those moments where you were so _real_ with me, when you were unabashedly _there_ for me, and had my back...but I didn't let it develop into a crush because there were a million ways to explain myself, to talk myself out of it.  And I was sure I'd be humiliated if you even suspected."

 

He knew that feeling all too well.  But still, in standard Derek fashion, he just nodded.  He could feel as deeply as anyone, but never seemed to have the verbal (or emotional?) capacity to lay himself bare in the way that Casey could.  She did it so eloquently.  "Yeah," he echoed weakly.

 

"Then when you were so mad at me over Break...I thought maybe it all hit you, and you'd figured me out and were trying to get me off your back."  She swallowed.

 

"Ironic," he said. 

 

"I tried to see if you felt anything the other week, over dinner before we left for back home..."

 

"I know."  The feeling of her fingertips, playing footsie under the table...

 

"You knew then?"

 

"I was pretty much making myself sick trying to figure out what the hell all your little signals meant," he said ruefully,  but the edge was false-- and she knew it. 

 

"Wouldn't it have been easier if you just said something?" she challenged him.  Her body was so pliant under his, so soft.

 

"Uh, I could ask you the same thing.  You're the smart one, the 'feelings' psychiatrist.  Why didn't _you,_ hmm?" 

 

She shrugged.  "It's scary enough to put yourself out there to a guy you just met, let alone--" She shifted underneath him, causing his attention to dip back to her hips cushioning his.  When he made eye contact with her again, she licked her lips. “Are you really, really sure, Derek?”

 

With eyes that burned,  he nodded. “I’m completely sure.  Like I said...I think I’ve been doomed from the start.”

 

“Doomed?” she asked.  Her brows shot high in surprise.

 

“Doomed.  I tried to run from your super-keener ways, tried to prank my f-f-feelings out of my system, and...your powers are too much for me.”  He grinned at her, and undid a fifth button.  

 

“Is Derek Venturi admitting _defeat_? I never dreamed of such a thing!” She sat up slightly on her elbows, eyes dancing.  “If I’d known this was how-- I could’ve saved myself so much time and creative plotting in High School.”

 

“Oh, shut it.” He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth, to silence her.  “It was a long road, but...yeah.”

 

“You surrender?” she asked, lips pursed smugly.

 

He undid the final button.  Her blouse fell open, exposing her skin to his ravenous gaze. His jaw hung slack.  He breathed, “I surrender.”

 

And Casey, rising up slightly, rolled the sleeves off and discarded her shirt.  Her hickey mark was fading, but still pink and evident. His eyes met hers as her hands slipped behind her own back.  The smile she gave him made the galaxy spin.  A _sntch_ sound, and--

 

Sweet heaven.  Her bra dropped on the bed.

 

He could stare at her breasts for the rest of his life.  His whole body was reduced to the throbbing of his cock, and the ache at the base of his throat.  That familiar **_want_ ** coursed through him like divinity.  What he’d previously reviled, he now gave himself over to.

 

“Oh, Casey.”  He ducked his head, lips trailing down her clavicle to the soft whiteness of her breast.  Her pink nipple begged for his mouth. He kissed it, then the other, then back again, devout in his worship of her perfect nipples.  She moaned and rocked beneath him, her name a chorus in his ears. He crushed his hips against hers, letting her movement stimulate his rock-hard erection.

 

“Take off my pants,” she whispered to him.

 

“You said you didn’t want to--”

 

“I said I might not go all the way, but that doesn’t mean I want my pants to get soaked,” she whispered at him, feverish and irritated. “I can feel my underwear getting slippery and I’d prefer--”

 

“Say no more.”  Derek obliged her request quickly, expertly.  With one yank, he had her legs free of jeans and-- he groaned at the sight of her panties, and the small spot of wetness that bloomed at the apex of her thighs, against the pale pink cotton.  “Fuck, Casey, you’re beautiful.” He ran his index finger down wetness there, and rejoiced when her thighs twitched and her breath hitched.

 

“Derek? Did you-- did you ever think about me?”

  
“I think of you all the time,” he said, honestly, quietly. He ran his fingertip down the wet seam again.  He could _smell_ her, and it was intoxicating.

 

“No. I mean-- did you ever _think_ of me?”  She gave a slight jerk of her hips, emphasizing her point.

 

He stared at her hungrily, truthfully, and when he answered, it was probably too fast and too raspy, too honest.  He didn’t care. “Yes.”

 

She ran her hands up her own torso, caressing herself.  Her eyes slipped shut for just a second. “When?”

 

Though it was agony, he forced himself to stop touching her underwear and to focus on her question. The moment his touch ceased, she impatiently wiggled.  “No, please...uh, can you keep touching me?”

 

He nodded wordlessly, eyes slipping back to the seam of her pink panties, and the wet line that grew even duskier, even more slippery.  “Yes.”

 

“Touch me, and tell me about when you thought of me.  Please.”

 

 _Shit._ “Um.”  He blinked, shifting so that his dick wasn’t so constricted by the tightness of his jeans.  Had he ever been this hard before?  It was difficult to think. He stroked her again, a fingertip down the fabric.  He was positively throbbing.  He shifted again. 

 

As if sensing his physical discomfort, Casey whispered, “You can touch yourself, if you want.”

 

_Holy fuck._

 

“I’d like to see it.”  Her lips did that familiar pucker.  Maybe she was nervous? He could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

  
What universe did he wake up in?   This was far beyond any dirty imagining he could’ve concocted.  With a dazed nod, he stood, unzipped his jeans, and let his cock spring free from his boxers.  Casey watched him with rapt, hungry eyes. Had she ever seen a cock before? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want her to misunderstand his question for mockery.  No, his question was pure masculine pride.  But even if it wasn’t the first cock she’d encountered, he didn’t really care-- she was looking at him like he was the only man in the universe.  He felt the tight muscles of his lower belly twitch under her sight.  Her eyes widened, then she sat back, with her lips curled in satisfaction.

  
“Like what you see?” he asked, trying for bravado but entirely aware of the fact that _God he hoped she did, hoped she wanted him and wanted to feel every inch of him like he did her, didn't want anything to mar this dream that was coming true despite having all odds massively stacked against him._

 

“Mhmm."  Was that a purr?  "I’ve never really...uh, watched a guy...handle himself, if you know what I mean?”

 

Where was she going with this?

 

“Would you-- touch me, while you touch yourself?”

 

He thought his brain might explode.  He nodded weakly, repositioning himself so that he was on his side.  His left hand cupped himself; his right hand moved over her slick panties.  He wanted to memorize the smell of her desire. “Do you want me to….” he touched the lace hem.

 

Her voice shot a level higher, pitched with sudden nerves.  “No, no.  I want them on, if that’s okay.  Can you move them aside? I just don’t want you to have to stare at my-- well, I’m not, like, shaven or anything...I know I probably should, but…”

 

He shook his head violently, jaw clenched.  “No, don’t apologize. You’re fucking beautiful and I can already tell your pussy is perfect.  But if you want to keep them on, keep them on. We’ll have plenty of opportunity for-- other stuff, later.  Another time.  Any time.”   _All the time,_ he wanted to growl.

 

“If it’s okay,” she said softly, voice relaxing back into its usual lull as her body became pliant again.  She edged her panties over slightly to reveal dark curls, and a perfect clit already begging for attention.  Someday very, very soon, he vowed, he was going to suckle her clit until she keened under his tongue. His fingers slipped against her slick folds, the cotton hem a strange and fascinating contrast against the side of his hand.  He fisted his cock at the base, pumping slowly, in time with the strokes of his fingers on her.

 

“Is this good?” he asked raggedly.

 

She was on her elbows again, lips trembling as she watched him masturbate himself.  Her one leg was crooked at the knee, foot flat on his mattress. The fine tremor ran up the length of her smooth calf.  Derek eyed every line, every pulse, every slip of his finger against her sopping sex-- but mostly he was fascinated by her face.  She was a goddess, blinding perfection.

 

“You-- ah, Derek--” her eyes rolled back slightly, then she insisted, “you should--ahhh-- tell me.”

 

His balls were already tingling.  No, he couldn’t release this quickly.  He focused on her instead. “Tell you what?” he asked in a low voice.

 

“About the times you thought of me,” she panted.

 

“Fuck, Casey.  You are so fuckin’ dirty.”  He _knew_ she would be this passionate, but even then, had he comprehended the heat of that passion and what it would do to him?  Could he ever have guessed she’d like dirty talk? Shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did-- and he fucking loved it. “After our kiss on the porch.  I couldn’t believe what had happened, and jerked off in the shower the next morning-- like a fuckin’ teenager.”

 

“I did too.” Her voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard before, an angel’s moan.  “Probably right after you, oh Goddddd. I was afraid someone might hear me-- I dropped the shampoo bottle to cover up the sound--” Her hips were rocking against his finger, expertly circling her clit.

 

“Unbelievable.  Do you know how many times I’ve had to do the same thing?” His voice was dangerous, almost cruel as he stroked himself from base to tip, base to tip. “Not just this week, but all through school.  You know how much I wanted you? Do you?”

 

She made a obsequious sound, almost a squeak.  

 

Now that he was talking, he couldn’t stop.  He ranted on, unfiltered: “Junior year, I once came so hard that I ruined a pair of sleeping shorts, all because I saw you stretching before dance practice.  I was fucking obsessed with you, Casey. I’ve had so many dreams of bending you over your bed, or my desk, or in the backyard hammock...anywhere, everywhere-- dreamed of showing you how much I want you.”  

 

“How much do you want me?” she pressed breathlessly.  Her hips now jerked rhythmically, steadily against his circling thumb.  His spine was tingling with building orgasm.

 

“So fucking much, Case.”

 

“You’d exhaust me, wouldn’t you?”

 

“I’d make sure that the only man you’d ever want again-- even think about again-- is me.” He worked his cock faster, entranced by the sight of her.

 

“Do you want to fuck me?” Her eyes were glinting like hot blue embers, heels digging into the bed with their rhythm between them.

 

“I do, God, yes I do.  I’d fuck you until you couldn’t see straight, until we’re both spent and we can’t remember our names; I wouldn’t let you leave the bed until we were satisfied, and even then, I’d want you all over again.  Jesus, Casey.” He was relentless with himself, seeking his pleasure but pushing it back, never wanting it to end. Spot flickered in front of his eyes; was he really getting dizzy with pleasure? He panted, “I think I’m always gonna want you.”

 

She moaned, her head thrashing to the side.  “Would you-- God, Derek-- would you fill me up with your come?”

 

He was desperately grunting, “Yes, yes, yes.”  He’d never fucked a girl bareback before-- the idea of it had always freaked him out, seemed too risky and too committed-- but with Casey, he was suddenly preternaturally aware of the fact that someday, one day, he would do just that.  He’d give her _everything,_ every drop of life his body could produce.   He’d do it deliberately, and she’d want it, and it was going to be natural and carnal and loving.  He was going to give her everything. His life, his dreams, his children, his future. It was predestined to be hers; all of it.  All of him. He circled her clit wildly. Resisting the need to taste her, he instead watched her beautiful face with glinting, lustful eyes and a throat tight with words he would couldn’t give voice to.

 

“Derek, I lov-- ah God, I’m gonna come!”

 

He wanted to press his face to her cunt, to taste her pussy and push his fingers inside.  He wanted some part of him inside of her, inside of this girl who so wholly commanded his brain, his sex, his _whole fucking galaxy._

 

He could hear salvation in her cries as she came.  The tingling at the base of his spine flared out, unleashing lighting in that shot through every nerve-ending.  His toes curled. He came harder than he ever had, come spilling over his hand and onto the bed sheet with every frantic jerk of his hand.  

 

When he opened his eyes, utterly spent, it was her beautiful blue eyes that he reveled in.  He removed his hand, replacing her underwear.

 

Then, an amusing thought occurred to him.  “Hey. Look. I’m literally laying at your feet.”  He smirked, though it was only half-hearted. He was happily exhausted.  

 

Reading his mind, Casey asked saucily, “How’s _that_ for courtly devotion?”

 

They laughed.  Derek got a towel from his shelf to try to sop up the messy evidence of their interlude.  Casey was positively glowing in his bed, her dark hair spread around her like a halo. His chest tightened at the sight.  Again, there was that strange preternatural feeling again-- the same that had overcome him earlier, this time whispering _forever._

 

He never would’ve imagined such an oddity happening to him; he’d barely ever been able to express his feelings aloud, letalone imagine himself capable of weird, fateful premonitions.  But it was undeniable. He couldn’t shake the feeling. What was it?

 

Ah.

 

It was _rightness._

 

None of his previous conquests would think to accuse him of clingy-ness.  He was good at sex, and enjoyed sex-- but he never got himself _lost_ in sex, or in a woman.  But then again, that wasn’t entirely true.  He’d been lost for Casey for four years. He just hadn’t realized it until he was long-gone and so deeply entrenched in loving her that it had erupted in crisis.  

 

He always had been hers, and there was no fighting it ever again.  

 

Nothing would ever break him from his fixation on Casey; no amount of public scorn, no amount of misplaced self-sacrifice, no amount of willpower would be able to outweigh the power she held over his soul.  And now that he might have her love-- or at least, a shot at it-- well, that was that. It was over for him; there was no Derek without Casey.

 

Looking at her now, watching her skin cool from their shared frenzy, he realized...he’d rather fight the world than give _this_ up.  

 

“Do you want some water?” he offered, voice thick with emotion.

 

She perked up slightly at his tone.   _She knew him, she knew him so fucking well._  “Sure.  You okay?”

 

“I’m amazing,” he replied honestly. “You?”

  
“Me too.” She sighed happily.  Apparently, satisfied Casey was a _quiet_ Casey.  Radiant, satisfied, beautiful woman.

 

He pulled a new bottled water from the flat under his desk, and brought it to her.  He watched her throat muscles work with every gulp. When she was done, she smiled at him, all languid and and blithe.

 

“Hey. Casey.  I just want to say-- you are the best.”  He’d been working on emotional communication, but clueing her into his thoughts right now (especially when they were rife with thoughts like _future, forever_ and _destiny_ ) seemed a little heavy.  Even for Casey. He took a sip of water from his own bottle.

 

Weird.  He’d always thought that “the One” stuff would be harder to come to terms with, if such a thing existed at all.  He’d remembered overhearing Casey and Emily jabber about that once, and had laughed until Casey’s hand cracked across the back of his skull.  How vindicated she would’ve been then, to know that one day he was going to on his knees (literally and figuratively) for her. He smiled at the thought.

 

“Glad you surrendered?” she teased, bringing him out of his head and back to the present.

 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered with a smirk.  He pulled his boxers up his legs, then climbed onto the bed next to her.  “Imagine if you’d just admitted to my awesomeness years ago. We could’ve been doing this for years.”

 

“Nah.  I needed you to grow up just a little bit.” She nustled into his side.

 

He tilted his head in concession.  “I won’t fight you on that.”

 

“Why didn’t you-- um, try to--”

 

When he blinked at her, completely in the dark, she clarified, “Lick me? Or finger me? I don’t know, Truman was all about trying to persuade…”

 

“That’s because Truman is a total squid.  You specifically asked for me to touch you and I didn’t want to push you.  I’ll happily lick you out next time, if that’s--”

 

“De- _rek!”_ she shrieked, the balmy peacefulness rankled.  She laughed and rolled over, groaning into the sheet.  She said something, but it was too muffled.

 

“Huh?”

 

She lifted her face toward him. “I said, I’d like that.”

 

He grinned at her.  “Good. So would I.”

 

“And...well, I feel bad I didn’t touch you.”

 

“Nah, don’t.  Clearly I enjoyed myself.”

 

“I owe you one.  Like, I really, really want to.”  She was turning red again, and he mischievously noted the difference in her coloring between arousal and embarrassment.  “Oh, and I wanted to clarify. About what I said...I didn’t mean it. I did, but I didn’t-- I don’t know. It slipped out.”

 

He searched his brain.  “About shaving? Yeah, honestly, I’m kinda shocked you were embarrassed...I just didn’t think you’d care about--”

 

She squeaked.  “De- _rek!_ I’m not talking about shaving.  Though, yes, you’re right, I shouldn’t care...personal sexual appearance shouldn’t be dictated by unrealistic expectations of a patriarchal industry--”

 

“Right, right, blah blah blah.”  He made a face. “Forgotten.  And I like you exactly as you are so don’t ever feel like you have to change that.  Whatever you like, I like.”

 

“Aw.  Der.” Her gaze was so soft on his.  “Thanks. That’s really sweet of you.  I...I don’t know why I was so embarrassed.  Maybe because Truman…” she closed her mouth.

 

“What?”  He felt irritation already stinging at his brain.  Had the loser _made her feel bad?_  He wanted to pound the guy anew, which was impressive….he’d already devised fourteen different ways to clobber him since his second infidelity.  To think _Truman_ had somehow made Casey feel  _ashamed_ when she’d been allowing such an unworthy muppet to touch her in any way in the first place...his teeth clicked together, clenched.  It was more than just annoying.  It was practically  _unjust._  

 

“He hated it," Casey continued.  "That’s all I’ll say.  But honestly, it was okay because he didn’t want to have sex or do anything unless I was bare, and it seemed kind of...I don’t know.  A good excuse to _not_ do it, and sort of just....blame it on the fact that I didn’t want to wax.  It kept things moving at my pace rather than what I’m sure he wanted.”  She rolled her eyes.

 

“I’m glad you didn’t.  What a pansy.  I hate him even more now.”

 

“Yeah.”  She sucked on her lip, looking up at the ceiling.  “Well, I guess that’s the roundabout way of admitting I’m a virgin.  This is the farthest I’ve ever gone with a guy. Which you probably already guessed.”

 

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Even the most experienced girls I’ve been with haven’t had a mouth like yours, rattling off dirty, sexy commands at me and making me confess my naughtiest fantasies.  That was...one-of-a-kind. Jesus.” He scrubbed his palm down his face. “If I had any energy left in me, I’d probably get hard all over again if I think about it. I’ll be thinking about that for the next thirty years.”

 

“Well, thank you.”  She looked happy and superior.  “I’ve had a lot of time to fantasize, so it all...well, it just sort of happened.  Which...well…” she cleared her throat, circling back to her earlier comment.  “I think I started to say something, and it sort of slipped out, and I don’t know if you heard it, but I hope it didn’t freak you out.  I really am embarrassed and I hope it doesn’t make this weird, because I really want to keep-- keep doing this sort of thing.”

 

He looked at her, face blank as a slate, but he could hear her gasping voice crying _Derek, I lov--_ before she spun into orgasmic bliss.  Of course he’d heard. He had already selfishly locked away the moment, hoarding it deep in his secret heart.  

 

Still, he played dumb.  “What are you talking about?”

 

She eyed him, cautiously, as if she could sense some layer of deceit.  After all, she knew him better than anyone. Still, whatever she sensed-- either that he was helping her save face, or that he was actually completely fine with her little slip of the tongue-- she didn’t push.  That soft smile came back, and she settled back into his pillow. “Nothing.”

 

He kissed her bare shoulder, then her mouth.

 

“So.  Does this mean you’ll hug me now?” she asked, teasingly.

 

“Occasionally.  I’ll probably hold your hand, once we feel like we’re ready to take that plunge.”  He slanted a look at her. “You know why I never touched you, right?”

 

She considered, head tilting to the side.  “I’m not dumb enough to think it had anything to do with…”

 

“That’s exactly what it had to do with.  Didn’t want you getting comfortable with touchy-feelies, or you’d be doing both to me and I didn’t want to chance an awkward and untimely reveal.  I felt perverted enough in my own fantasy-world without giving you permission to wrap yourself around me on a whim.”

 

“I wouldn’t have,” she said indignantly.

  
He raised a brow at her.

 

“Well…” she admitted with a self-deprecating shrug, “I might’ve.  I was always totally confused as to why you didn’t like me, what I did wrong.”

 

“And now you surely know that that wasn’t the case in the slightest,” he told her evenly.  “I liked you too much. Even if you did do everything wrong half the time and drove me insane the rest of the time.”

 

“Well, I always liked you.  Unless you gave me cause to _not_ like you.  Which was fairly frequently.  That’s why...being here at Queens’ with you has been so wonderful.  You really are...my best friend. In every way. I’ve never liked anyone as much as you-- friend, or guy, or anywhere in between.”

 

“Definitely somewhere in between.”  There was no label for him, not yet.  “I feel the same about you.”

 

_That was putting it lightly, but hey, she got the idea._

 

He ran his fingers down the slope of her arm.  “Do you want to stay the night?”

 

“No, I should probably get back.  Besides, we….well, no one would accuse us of doing a slow-burn on this relationship,” she joked nervously and gestured between their lower bodies.  She sat up, replacing her bra and snapping it into place.

 

Derek snorted derisively.  “Please, princess. We’ve been slow-burning every day for years.  Hell, we’re lucky we didn’t combust tonight after all the tension we’ve bottled up.”

 

She squeezed his thigh before standing to replace her jeans.  “Don’t speak too soon. We have a few firsts ahead of us. We might still have some explosions ahead.”  

 

“Oh, I count on it,” he told her, forever a smart-ass.  Then, in a flash of vulnerability, he said, “Case, we have a _lot_ of firsts ahead of us.”  Their gazes lingered a long moment.  Then, because he couldn’t resist, he added, “And undoubtedly...there will be some fireworks.”

 

“Aw.  You’re full of puns, aren’t you? Some people have pillow talk, but Derek...gets punny?”

 

“Now you’re just trying to fire me up,” he deadpanned.

 

She rolled her eyes, but they were both grinning.  “You sure you don’t want to stay?” It was the first time he’d asked a girl to stay...and first time he'd actually wished she would.  He pointed broadly at her bag on the floor. “Your stuff’s here already, I mean.”

 

"That's all dirty laundry in there."  Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

 

"Well, gee.  I guess I'd lend you a shirt, if you twisted my arm."  He offered her his arm, keeping the offer casual despite the fact that his ears were turning red at the enticing idea of  _sleeping beside Casey for an entire night._  

 

She seemed to consider it for a moment, studying his outstretched arm.  Then, looking fatigued, she sighed.  “No, I do think I should head back. But I want to.  Really. Really, want to.”  The way she said it had him thinking back to what she'd said only moments before-- about wanting to pleasure  _him_ and  _really, really wanting to._

 

Maybe it was best if they waited, even a couple of weeks.  Derek had already been through enough tonight; if anything else happened, he was pretty sure his heart might give out from elation and/or shock.

 

“Yeah. I get it.  You're right.  O, wise Space Case, you're right just this once so relish the moment."  He stood, picking up the rumpled shirt he’d tossed on the floor in his haste.  “Tomorrow’s Econ, by the way. I’m sure you remember.”

 

“Obviously.  And I’m sure you remember the presentation that’s due.”

 

He froze. “What?”

 

Casey immediately bristled. “De _-rek!_ You can’t be serious!  I talked about it the entire way back to London, and I brought it up at least three times when we were back home!  What do you mean? Have you not even read the book? Did you prepare a powerpoint? It’s for 40% of the final grade!”

  
Panic bubbled in his chest, and his voice was high as he shrieked, “Are you fucking kidding?!”

 

Then, Casey sat back, a grin splitting her features.  Mischief glimmered in her voice. “Actually, yes. Gotcha.”

 

His whole body deflated like an over-blown balloon. He stared at her, agog.

 

“There’s nothing due.  Just messing with you,” she supplied.

 

“CASEY!”  He launched himself at her, tackling her onto the bed, tickling her until tears rolled down her cheeks and she squealed his name between giggles.

 

“De- _rek!”_

 

There was no sound he liked better in the whole world.

 

\----------

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! For those who are kind enough to give kudos, thank you so much...and for those who comment and let me know what they're thinking, thank you especially! It really makes me so happy to know your thoughts. Supportive readers make fandom writing so much less daunting...so, if you've got a Dasey story floating in your head, I totally recommend you put it out there...we all are so hungry for material based around this awesome pairing! :D
> 
> Please comment! I lifted the rating on this due to some elevated naughtiness. Not sure if it'll get more raunchy than this...I like my raunch with a hefty dose of pining, fluff, or angst. I don't know what the next chapter will be, so any prompts or ideas on what to base it around....I'm open to suggestions! :)


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---
> 
> Apparently, I'm a filthy liar when I said, "Wellll, that's about as explicit/raunchy as it'll get" in regards to Chapter 2. Thank you for bearing with me as I continue to live up to the E rating shamelessly. Hopefully it remains true to the characters and ship. Thanks for reading.
> 
> \---

\-----

 

// at school, end of second semester \\\

 

 

When they were sixteen, Casey dealt with one of his many, many pranks by liberally dousing his sheets, hcokey gear, and the (few) clean clothes hanging in closet with her perfume.  In fact, dumping might’ve been a better word for it.

 

And while obnoxious and the whole room smelled like a walking migraine, and while he bellowed her name loud enough that even the Davis household probably paused in its evening activities, and ensured he would countless hours on endless laundry duty...he was never going to admit that his first reaction to entering his bedroom and _smelling Casey_  was a deeply carnal thrill.  Just before it overpowered and became migraine-level sensory overload, that is.

 

He also would never admit that he was sort of secretly pleased that his sheets had that lingering fresh, floral scent clinging to them for weeks, even after washing.  And he wouldn’t even begin to recall the hormonal consequences _that_ brought on, when he couldn’t fall asleep and couldn’t turn his head without breathing in the scent of the person he wanted more than anything.

 

He had been pretty bummed when finally, after the third wash of his sheets, the Casey smell was well and truly gone.

 

In the aftermath, Derek sneered at her over his bowl of cereal: “Maybe I’ll get some sleep now that my sheets don’t smell like Eau du’Loser.”

 

She’d grimaced at him.  “Can’t believe it held out this long.  I’ll have to send _Tocca_ a letter of congratulations for creating a product that actually managed to nullify your sweat-drenched odor this long.”

 

He’d loomed over her, pride stung at the cheap insinuation that he _smelled bad._  “Funny. You’re the only girl who’s ever complained about how I smell.”

 

“Other than the astronomically low chance that all of your girlfriends have anosmia, I’m afraid I can’t make excuses for their bad taste.”  Then she swished out of the room, haughty and untouchable and _awfulterrible fuck he just wanted to pin her down beneath him so bad._

 

He’d looked up the word later and it had made him both want to laugh and grind his teeth.

 

The memory tickled at the edge of his brain as he watched her now in the campus Library, flitting between bookshelves wrapped up in a denim jacket he’d given her the weekend. She’d been chilly as they watched a movie.  Now, she refused to return it, saying “it was comfy” and she “liked wearing it because it smelled like his cologne” and wearing it made her feel like “she was wrapped up in his arms.”

 

Who had anosmia now? Still, he knew the feeling...once in a while, she’d still put on that Tocca perfume she used to wear in her high school days, and he’d be rendered speechless for a minute.

 

But he couldn’t be distracted.  They had business to figure out.  “So, what’s the plan?”

 

“What plan?” Casey was hunched over a pile of textbooks, trying to lift the towering stack.  These particular tomes were enormous, bulky, and looked like they hadn’t been touched since 1977, but that didn’t deter Casey.  No, not his girlfriend.

 

Even thinking about that word—girlfriend—had his heart feeling like it was going to pound through his throat.  “Here, let me grab some of those.”

 

“Thanks.  I knew those muscles couldn’t just be for show.”

 

“Well, I expect a lot of compliments for the trouble,” he shot back with a smirk.  She rolled her eyes and led the way back to their table in the corner of Stauffer Library.  She was embroiled in a history research project—something about Women’s Rights and Jane Austen and petticoats or something—and he was happy to stop by after class just to hang out.

 

Except, it wasn’t so much about hanging out as…well, being around her.  Near her. They didn’t have to do anything to make their time together enjoyable.  Derek actually had even started studying, too, during these times…not, like, a lot (because he was Derek Venturi) but enough to keep his strong start going.  Hell, he might even squeak by with a few B’s this semester. When Casey had gushed over his “improved study habits and responsible pursuit of balance,” he’d made a big show of grimacing to get the point across that he wasn’t about to start taking summer classes…but, it was pretty great.  Still, he defended himself by claiming he wasn’t about to fuck up his chance to try out for Club Hockey in August. Club sports required academic minimums to be met…and he was going to damn well do it.

 

“So what plan are you asking about?” Casey asked as they turned the corner to their claimed table.

 

“Well…” suddenly, Derek didn’t know _why_ he was broaching the subject.  Doubt snipped at him. “Nevermind.”

 

“Spit it out,” Casey said.  She smirked. “Do I need to meet the compliment quota before you answer?  Fine. I like how you’ve been cutting your hair this year. It’s pretty sexy.”

 

“Doesn’t count,” he said, latching onto the distraction.  “You’ve told me that before.”

 

She’d run her fingers through it, one of the first couple of weeks back since Spring Break, and purred that very same compliment before she’d pinned him to the bed for a heavy makeout session.

 

“Oh.  Hmm. Okay.  You’re a master with your hands.”  She flipped him a saucy grin as they took their seats.  He dumped the textbooks on the table.

 

“Yeah?  Then why don’t we…”

 

“De- _rek._ ” She gestured to the pile.  “I have a 15-page research paper due.  If you think I’ll be able to focus on anything but women’s education and gender issues in Regency England for the next two days, then you’re going to be massively disappointed.”

 

He grabbed her hand, holding her gaze with a smolder.  Pressing a kiss to her knuckles, he said, “Is that a challenge?”

 

Her cheeks went pink as her lips parted.  He _loved_ making Casey’s expression do that, bleeding it of all tension and whatever else was on her far-too-over-active brain…he loved watching it all slip away in an instant, replaced with a sort of dazed expression that he never thought (or dared to have hoped) would be for him.  Still, he loved to tease her, so he quickly deposited that same hand on the stack of textbooks. “No, you’re right. You’re way too smart to be distracted by sexual tension…”

 

“Um, right.”  She sucked a breath in, as if she was shaking herself away.  “No, I need to focus on this if I’m going to have a perfect 4.0 for the semester.”

 

“Fair enough.”  He held up both palms in defeat.

 

“But what were you asking about for ‘the plan?’” She uncapped a pen, but her gaze was sharp on him.

 

He fidgeted.  “Well, it’s only two weeks til school’s out…then…”

 

“Back home?”

 

“Right.”  He chewed on the inside of his cheek.  “So. What are we doing to do?”

 

“Well…” Casey looked unsure.  “I guess…I expected to go home.  Didn’t you?”

 

“Obviously.  But. You. Me.  It’s different between us now.”

 

“Yeah, it is.”  Casey was distracted by her pen now, studying it as if it was an alien object worthy of complete analysis. “I guess…well, yeah.  It’s really different.”

 

“And not just in the, _omg, we’re best friends,_ kind of way.”  Derek’s high-pitched impression of her didn’t even make her look up.  He cleared his throat, then leaned forward until his forearms rested on the table.  “I want to know what you’d like to do.”

 

Surely it couldn’t be the first time this thought crossed her mind.

 

There was no way in hell that Casey, the queen of over-analysis and over-reaction, hadn't thought of this.

 

When she didn't answer right away, he pushed, "Seriously? Don't you have a binder or a guided presentation all ready to go?" His eyes slitted. "You've got to be kidding me.  You'll do a cost-analysis of weekday cereal consumption in the Venturi-McDonald House but you're genuinely trying to tell me you haven't chewed on this, not in the slightest?"

 

"I've thought about it, _a little bit,_ " she relented.  She sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest.  "I have a couple of ideas."

 

He mimicked her posture; it was by rote now, as it had been for years.  "Throw 'em at me."

 

"No, I haven't thought of all the variables yet, so I don't feel comfortable signing off on them yet as viable options."  

 

"There's the spontaneous girl I love so much--"

 

The words dropped out of his mouth like marbles.  Casey's jaw dropped; Derek's jaw dropped. There was one, long silence shared before Casey, eyes watering and glittering and bewitching, started the freak-out he knew was bound to follow such a confession. "What-- what did you just say?"

 

He hadn't meant to say it.  It wasn't that he didn't _mean_ it, but he hadn't meant to _say_ it, not this soon.  Unlike Sally, where it _did_ kind of slip out in a causal way that probably over-exaggerated strong affectionate feelings, this really, really slipped out at an inopportune moment.  Really slipped out, because he'd been secretly plotting different ways to tell her. _This_ was not how he wanted to do it, in any scenario.

 

He snapped his lips closed, raising his palms up again in surrender as he scooted away from the table.   _Avoidavoidavoid._  Sometimes, habit was still his primary default, no matter how hard he tried to communicate _f-f-feelings_ for the sake of maturity and commitment.

 

"No, no-- Derek, sit!  Where are you going? Seriously?!" She lunged at him, trying to tug him back into his seat, but he was already grabbing his backpack.  He felt hot. Was it hot?

 

"I gotta go, Case.  You go ahead and keep running through your, uhm, variable options or whatever, and call me...um, you know."  He mussed his hair. What a fucking moron he was. She was still looking at him with (those perfect wonderful) awed, wide eyes.

 

"Derek-- come on."  She looked at the table, covered in books that were neither checked out and were not easily found again, if she chose to abandon them to keep haranguing him.

 

"Seriously, write your paper."  He swallowed. "I'll, uh, see you later-- call me."

 

_He was SUCH a MORON._

 

He left, wishing he hadn't just squandered what was likely to be his last opportunity to confess for the first time that he loved someone.

 

After all, Derek had no such intention to ever have to do it again....nope.  Casey was the last love for him.

 

\------

 

 

He was still feeling like an idiot, even after he met up with a couple of buddies for Free Skate at the campus ice arena.  Austin and Lars were cool, freshmen who he'd met at the Club Hockey informational session earlier that year. Free Skate was obviously more casual, and didn't allow for any sticks or pucks on-ice, but Lars had been buddying up with the Arena managers.  A couple of them were lax enough that-- if the ice was clear after Free Skate-- instead of shutting the Arena down, they'd let them mess around and shoot.

 

They'd been lucky that night and the Arena manager had agreed to let them take command of the ice for an hour.  He'd taken his embarrassment out through Hockey drills. Same old, same old...he'd been doing that since Casey moved in, way back when.  The ice had always been good for relieving any issues related to Casey. He had to admit, he'd take this kind of issue over the past any day.  This was embarrassment for a stupid slip-up, rather than the crippling shame that used to ride him furiously during practice. Back then, it was anything to try and take his mind off her-- to try and cure himself of a one-sided fascination that was bound to break his heart fresh, week after week after week.

 

Now, at least, it was two-sided.

 

Until he'd gone and gushed about _love_ prematurely.  God.

 

Derek hadn't ever considered himself a romantic; he was surely capable of romantic gestures (hell, he'd exhausted some on Sally)...but he really had wanted his "firsts" with Casey to be something memorable.  They'd been together for months now, and hadn't gone much farther than the touching/groping/grinding stage. And that was good, all onto itself. He really didn't feel the need to push for much more at this point.

 

And, because he was a _pansy_ these days, he really wanted their next steps to be special.

 

"Fucking _special,"_ he gritted out, taking a snap-shot toward the net.

 

After, he got a beer with Lars and made it a point not to check his phone until after they'd said their goodbyes.

 

He flipped it out as he climbed the stairs to his dorm.

 

Hmm.  No messages.

 

No missed calls.

 

No nothing.

 

He put his phone away, wiping damp palms on his jeans. Fine.  That's cool. Keener McGee was going to throw herself into her books.  That was fine.

 

He needed a shower anyway.

 

\-----

 

Freshly shaven and showered, Derek had barely opened the bathroom door back into his room when he saw his roommate shrugging into a jacket.  As usual, he was on the phone with his mom and looking flustered. He gave Derek a vague gesture of "cya" before zipping out the door.

 

Well.  Alone again.

 

Two months ago, he would've barely noticed.  He would've meandered out the door twenty minutes after the poor guy, instead bound for a party and the promise of more booze and feminine attentions.  Now, he was sluggishly slinging on a fresh pair of grey sweatpants, morosely checking his (still silent, still unbothered, still blank) phone.

 

"All because of--"

 

His grumpy sentiment was cut off at the door handle jiggling, like the hand on the other side expected it just to open.  He glanced back, then at his roommate's desk-- wouldn't be the first time the guy forgot something in his frantic rush to appease his overbearing parents.  Derek immediately loped toward the door and opened it to reveal...

 

Casey.

 

His heart did that funny thing.  It was somewhere between a squeeze and a twist and a flip-flop.  He swallowed. "Hi."

 

"Hi."  She was watching him curiously, but there was something to the set of her jaw-- God, he'd seen this expression before, but he wasn't exactly able to place it... then her eyes swept down his bare chest, lower to his hips...and finally snapped up to meet his gaze again.  "Can I come in?"

 

He stood aside to let her through.

 

"So. Let's cut to the chase."

 

 _Fuuuuuuck._  He closed the door, keeping his back to her and bracing a hand on the door.  "Casey. Please drop it."

 

"Nope.  Did you mean it?"

 

"Casey, come on."  

 

"No."  She enunciated.  When he turned to look at her, her brows were arched high.  "Did you mean it, Derek, or not?"

 

"I--"  His tongue felt like lead. "I wanted to do it different."

 

"But did you mean it?"  Ever the pushy princess, she wouldn't drop it.

 

He groaned loudly, yanking his hands through his hair in agitation.

 

"Derek.  It's a simple question that I'm sure even _you_ can answer--"

 

She _knew_ how to rattle his cage, God did she ever!  He stood to his full height, eyes flashing.  His voice was inching toward a snarl as he answered, "Yes!  Jesus Christ, is that what you want to hear? You really want _that_ to be the way you find out?  You won't give me the space to correct it, so fine-- yes, I meant it.  Happy?"

 

"Correct it?" She flicked her braid over her shoulder defiantly.  "You just said you meant it. Are you trying to back out now?"

 

"No, I meant-- I wanted to do it, you know-- _better._  A grand gesture or some romantic shit."  Derek's jaw clenched. "You're so infuriating and pushy."

 

"Right."  Her voice wasn't mad, wasn't offended.  In fact, she looked smug. And mischievous.

 

"So. There." He sneered.  "You pushed and got your answer and now it's just word vomit and not romantic at all.  Thanks."

 

"No, thank you." She looked totally unruffled.  She even looked-- well, happy. And happy Casey was like kryptonite to Derek...it made his head go fuzzy and light, as if it was stuffed full of cotton candy.  

 

"Well.  Okay." So that was that.

 

Was she really going to react to his love confession (dumb, random, unintentional, but truthful all the same) with a "thank you?"  He watched her wearily.

 

Silence dragged out between them.  She didn't make any move to leave, but she wasn't firing into her next topic or changing the subject.  She wasn't doing anything.

 

"I think you should lock the door."

 

"What?"

 

"Please lock the door, Derek."  She had that look that he was starting to get used to; he'd always known Casey was bossy, but it never had really occurred to him (mostly because he never allowed himself to imagine that far) that her bossiness was going to be a dream come true in the bedroom.  He never really fantasized about dominant women before, and certainly wasn't used to it with any other girls he'd been with...but Casey had a sort of regality to her, like she was in full-command and intended to get what she wanted. Even if she was all blushes and giggles and stammering after, there was no denying that she got what she wanted.

 

Somewhere, in the back of his brain as his hand pushed the chain-lock into place, he heard his own boasting from years before: _what Derek wants, Derek gets._  

 

He faced Casey, completely speechless as she took his hand and pulled him closer to the bed.  Just as he began to sink back onto it by habit, expecting that she'd want to lay with him on it, she clutched his shoulders, holding him into place where he stood.  She kissed him--- a long, sensual kiss-- before pulling back with a smile. Then, her hands dropped, skirting over his bare chest, down his stomach, fingers dancing at the waist of his sweatpants.

 

Then, in on simultaneous, graceful movement, Casey sank to her knees and pulled his sweatpants down to his ankles.

 

He _felt_ her breath on him before his brain even caught up well enough to demand that _he look right now._  

 

Was there ever a sight to compare to _this?_ He never would've _dreamed_ something like this-- well, that was a lie, he had dreamt it many times before, if he was being totally honest-- but he couldn't believe it was actually happening.  There was Casey, looking up at him with shining eyes and a pout that belied how much power she had over him.

 

"Is this something you've thought about?" she asked coyly.

 

He nodded, unable to string together any words, and let his eyes slide shut.

 

She wrapped a hand around him-- oh _God--_ and he steeled himself so that he wouldn't embarrass himself. _It's just a blowjob, it's just a blowjob, just a blowjob FROM FUCKING CASEY MCDONALD_.  But oh, there was her hand, stroking him, a soft palm that was making his mind roll over blankly.  A groan dragged from his throat.

 

"I want to tell you something too." Her lips were moving, so close that he could feel their movement against the sensitive tip of his cock. "Look at me."

 

He obeyed, powerless when she talked in that voice to him.

 

"Any idea what I might want to say?"

 

He shook his head, but now he heard her gasp, that first night, forever lodged in the deepest part of his heart: _I lov--_

 

Her hand was idly stroking him; firm, languid strokes that were making his hips twitch.  His body was begging that he _do something, get closer, get closer to her._  But he tried to follow the meager thread of sound reasoning before it was lost to him altogether. "Casey, don't say it unless you mean it--"

 

"I mean it." Did her tongue just dart out?  Christ, it did, and she was doing it again...a long, wet lick down the length of his shaft. "But you're right, this isn't the moment."

 

His fingers tangled in her hair. "You don't have to do this, Case."

 

"I don't have to, but I want to.  Tell me if there's anything you don't like." And with that, she enveloped him with her mouth-- sucking the head of his cock between her lips, pushing the length of him deeper until he nudged the tight back of her throat.

 

His knees went momentarily weak; his right hand shot out to grip the bedpost, to keep himself upright as her tongue swirled around the width of his cock.  He was perfectly sheathed in her mouth as she started to bob-- relaxing pressure, tightening, relaxing, tightening. Her right hand inched up his naked calf, over his thigh, before curling around the base of his cock. His eyes rolled back in his head.

 

" _Unnnngh,_ Casey," he groaned.

 

She made a small unintelligible sound.

 

"You're perfect," he answered in a broken voice, knowing what she would've asked if she could.  Pleasure zipped through every nerve. She'd said before that she'd never done oral, or anything coming close to it.  She'd been enthusiastic in giving handjobs these past few weeks, but who would've guessed she'd be a _fucking goddess with her mouth?_

 

She released him from her mouth for just one second, to draw in a breath, and to leave a row of kisses up his shaft.  He ran adoring, trembling fingers over her hairline, watching her watch his cock, and thought that this might be the best moment of his entire life.  Then, with a glance up at him, her other hand cupped his sack and she went right back to working him with her mouth. Fire churned in his bloodstream.

 

Wicked thoughts began to roll through his brain.  Casey, queen of dirty talk in the sheets, was on her knees in front of him, with his cock wedged down her throat.  His heart thumped in his ribcage. When he spoke, his voice was low and dark. "You're trying to suck an orgasm from me, aren't you?"

 

Her eyes flicked up to his, delightful and challenging.  Her mouth and tongue and throat and hands were merciless.

 

"Ah, you are," he said, cupping her head.  Despite his dark, dominant tone, his touch was gentle.  "You want me to come for you, Casey?"

 

She made a soft, muffled sound of approval around his cock.  

 

"Where do you want it, hmm?"  He brushed the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones. If he'd been with any other girl, he wouldn't have the guts to ask his next question, but he figured, of all people on the planet, Casey would be the one who'd absolutely fucking ignite under the influence of his words: "Casey McDonald couldn't possibly want me to come all over her face, would she?"

 

He wasn't sure what he expected-- an outraged sound, or perhaps that she might even pull back and wipe her sleeve across her mouth with a disgusted, "De- _rek!"_  But what he didn't expect was for her eyes to crinkle in the most mischievous way, glittering as she made as sound of _delight._

 

Stupefied and with the softest, wettest mouth performing magic on his dick, Derek barely held out as he rasped, "What?"

 

Her eyes fluttered closed, then open again. There was invitation there. No, expectation.  Demand? Derek would never get enough of those expressive blue eyes.

 

Then it occurred to him, like puzzle pieces fitting together belatedly.  "You...?"

 

She made that sound of agreement again, squeezing the base of his cock with affirmation.   _She wanted him to come on her face._

 

Repeat: _Casey McDonald, his_ girlfriend _, wanted him to come on her fucking face._

 

That last thought, plus one particularly forceful suck that had her throat contracting around the girth of his cock, was enough to push him over the final precipice.  "Coming," he grunted, a fucking caveman with almost no capacity left for language, just in time for Casey to release him. She pumped him slowly once, twice, with the tip of his cock over her parted lips.  His gut clenched. He came long and hard, pumping white stripes over her mouth, the skin of her cheek, her brow, some into her hair...

 

Euphoric, boneless and positively stunned...Derek fell back onto his bed, but was unable to blink away from the unforgettable sight of Casey, covered in _him_ , and looking at him in a way no one had ever looked at him before.

 

 _She fucking_ loved _him._

 

He knew it, of course, and had felt her love before-- but the look in her eyes was lust, adoration, affection, _everything_ all at once.  She was _everything._

 

Then, her tongue flitted over her lip, catching a bit of come sticking there.

 

He watched for her reaction, unable to do anything else as every single cell in his body vibrated and hummed with post-sex elation.

 

"Hmm.  It doesn't taste like how I thought," she said softly. Then, glancing at the shelf nearby, she reached for a folded washcloth.  "May I?"

 

"Of course, whatever you want," he said, words stumbling over themselves.  Embarrassing, but he couldn't find it within himself to care all that much.  It was true. Whatever she wanted...fuck, he was her _slave._

 

She wiped her face clear of his orgasm.  "How was it?"

 

He didn't hesitate to assure her: "Amazing."

 

Her lips turned in that Casey-esque downward smile. "Not bad for a first try?"

 

"Jesus, no.  I almost am afraid to see what you can do with practice," he confessed.

 

"Well, I got a lot of tips.  I studied up on it this past week or two...wanted to make sure I did it right the first time.  Since you blew my mind...I mean, I have to keep up my game."

 

His ears rang suddenly.  "Practice?" he asked dangerously.

 

Her cheeks turned pink.  "I watched some...educational material."

 

The laugh he made was more like a pant of disbelief. "You-- _you_ watched porn?!"

 

"For educational purposes," she reiterated, climbing onto the bed beside him.  “Even I need a break at times from Regency literature.”

 

"Unfathomable."

 

"Hey!  That's a new word!"  She teased. He rolled his eyes heavily. She knew he was smarter than he could ever possibly convey in any social interaction...after all, he might not be able to express himself eloquently or impressively at all times, but he _was_ a whole different brand of clever.  She'd said that to him once, in an accusation or a fight of some kind, but he'd never forgotten the phrase.  It was one of the best things anyone ever said to him. Had she meant it as a compliment back then, but neither of them knew how to bridge the divide?  Yes, he decided...they'd both been blind for so long.

 

She laid on her back, entwining her fingers with his as they stared at his dorm's ceiling.   They studied popcorn ceiling tiles that should've been replaced in 1993. Her fingers twirled over his; his fingers played over hers.  She was still completely clothed, and he, completely naked. Neither made a move to try and remedy their mismatch, though. They stayed like that for a second-- an hour-- a decade, he wasn't sure.  

 

No, now he was certain of it-- _this_ was the happiest moment of his life so far.

 

"Hey, Casey?"

 

"Mhmm?"  She was drifting off, her breaths becoming deep and measured.

 

"Wake up." He squeezed her hand.

 

"Oof. Hmm."  Her annoyed voice ghosted over him as she turned, tucking herself around his naked body.  She nestled her face into his chest. "Shh, Derek. Let's just nap for a minute."

 

"It's after midnight, Casey."  He swallowed before venturing, "Do you just wanna stay here?"

 

"Mmmm." She nodded against his chest. "That okay?"

 

"Yeah. Let me get you something to wear, though."  He gently dislodged her from his chest. He slipped back into his neglected sweatpants, then dug around his drawer for something for her to wear.  Ah, an old hockey jersey. He brought it to her.

 

"Thanks," she murmured, sitting up.  She made quick work of changing-- too quick, really, as he'd love to ogle her, but then again, he was totally spent so maybe it was just best if they went to bed-- and let the jersey fall over her.  Even groggy and tired, she made sure to fold her discarded outfit neatly, setting the clothes on the floor in two pristine stacks. Then, she scrambled back to the head of his bed, and burrowed under the covers. Her hair was still disheveled from his hands, earlier, but the look was so adorably comical that he opted _not_ to tell her.  She'd see it in the morning.

 

He slipped in beside her.  Again, she nestled into his side, breathing out contentedly.

 

"There's an alarm, FYI. I have to get up at 6:30 sharp," she whispered against his skin.  "I signed up for morning yoga class at the Rec, and then I've got to proof my report before office hours."

 

Derek pressed his lips to her hair.  Perfect, neurotic, over-achieving, wonderful woman.  "Wake me up when you get up."

 

"Mhmmm."  She went quiet again in his arms.  A few minutes passed, mostly with him thinking about her, and the fact that his college sheets might smell like her in the same way his pranked bedding had, when he noticed her breathing had deepened again.

 

But his throat was itching, and his heart was thumping.

 

_He had to._

 

 _"_ Casey?" he ventured softly.  How could he say it?

 

"Mmm?" she grunted, startled out of early sleep for the second time in twenty minutes.

 

But he had to.  This was it. He had to.  

 

"I l-love you."  HIs voice was quiet, but he hoped she could hear the depth, the honesty, the meaning in every short syllable.  He meant it as he never had before. Even with the slight stammer....well, she knew him.

 

She'd gone absolutely still in his arms, and he knew that she was wide awake again.

 

She didn't say anything.  He stroked his fingers under the jersey, down the skin on her back, and tried to swallow back any feelings.  It was okay if she didn't feel the same yet, or wasn't ready. That was okay. Just fine. It would happen in its own good time.  Derek knew how to be patient. He was the embodiment of patience, he liked to think.

 

Still.  He tried not to let himself overthink her lack of response.  He stroked her skin, trying to let sleep take him away before a morning of grogginess became inevitable.  

 

Then, he felt Casey's mouth kissing his chest.  Just one, small, loving kiss.

 

"Derek?"

 

His heart kicked back full force.  "Yeah?"

 

"I love you."  What he’d hoped she would perceive from his own confession, he certainly heard in hers-- a genuine truth that left a warm, flutering space in his chest where his heart was.

 

Nothing else needed to be said.  And within minutes, both were sound asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading, and for your interest. I really appreciate all comments and it inspires me to keep going/practicing my writing. Thank you everybody. :)


	4. part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking to the family goes awry.

 

\\\\\\\

 

 

“You’re nervous.”  He took a swig of cola and offered her the bottle, which she refused.  He set it back down in the console.

 

“Nope, I’m not,” Casey replied blithely.  Her hair was in two pigtails; utilitarian as they’d packed up their dorms and squished everything they could into the Prince.   Nora had made a trip the weekend before with Lizzie, to collect most of their clothes and whatever bulky pieces weren’t necessary for their final week of exams.

 

Derek ran his thumbs over the well-worn steering wheel.  “Well. You seem nervous,” he taunted, throwing her an expression that never failed to trigger her.

 

It worked.  “Well, I’m not,” she snapped back.  “I’m perfectly fine. I’m excited for the summer.”

 

“Uh huh.”  He ran his tongue over his bottom molars; a reflex as he tried to think of the right thing to say, and whether or not he should bother talking at all.  “Well, if you’re chickening out on the Plan--”

 

“I’m not,” she chirped.  “Tonight, we’ll tell them.”

 

“I was going to say, if you’re chickening out on the Plan, we can at least spend the rest of the summer letting out all our stress via petty emotional fights at the dinner table.” 

 

“I thought you were going to say, ‘seeing other people,’” she retorted.  

 

“Nope.  I don’t share.  Of all people, you should know that.”  He tossed a devilish grin her way. “Besides, it’ll be  _ pretty _ obvious that something’s going on when I’m in your room at midnight, and you’re screaming  _ De-rek _ at the top of your lungs as you lock your thighs around my head--”

 

“De- _ rek!” _ Casey’s eyes were huge and round.  Her hand clapped over her mouth. “Oh my God, I don’t think I’ll ever live it down, will I--”

 

“Nope, never.  But to be fair, you’ll probably never see your suitemate again now that the year’s over…”

 

For once, the two of them had spent the night at her place, only two days before.  Her roommate was staying the night with her boyfriend across campus, so Casey had texted an invitation.  They’d been having a heavy makeout session, thoroughly enjoying their time alone. He’d murmured in her ear-- “let me lick you, Case, let me make you come”-- and she’d stunned him by shimmying out of her sleeping shorts.  Derek had been all too willing to worship at her alter. When she climaxed under his tongue, with his two fingers sheathed in her pussy and her thighs trembling and slung over his shoulders, he saw stars. To make the moment extra special, she’d squealed his name in that broken way only she could make sexy.

 

They’d slept blissfully.  The next morning, as they made their way down to the dining hall hand-in-hand, her suitemate Gia joined them in the elevator and said, “Is  _ this _ Derek?”

 

Casey said, “Oh, yes! I didn’t know I’d told you about him!  Gia, this is Derek. Derek, Gia. She’s in Room 355, the room attached to my bathroom.”

 

He extended his hand, just as the elevator  _ dinged _ and Gia said, “No, you didn’t tell me about him.  I heard you hollering his name last night and am kinda surprised to see you up so early.  Sounded like he really took it out of you.” With a saucy grin, Gia slipped out of the elevator, leaving a mortified Casey and a smug Derek in her wake.

 

He grinned at the memory, while simultaneously trying to keep it at bay-- he didn’t need a hard-on for the duration of the drive home.  But now the night was playing in his head, and he couldn’t bite down the smirk.

 

“You’re thinking about what Gia said, aren’t you?” Casey asked shrewdly.

 

“No,” he replied innocently.  “I’m thinking about what Gia  _ heard _ , and everything else that happened.  But not about what she said.”

 

“Oh my God,” Casey groaned, covering her face with her hands.  “I’m so embarrassed.”

 

“Don’t be,” he told her confidently.  “It was awesome.”

 

She made a grumpy sound from behind her hands.

 

“Seriously.”  His voice broke low as he confessed, “And now I can’t stop thinking about how you taste.”

 

Casey peeked through her fingers.  “Derek,” she whispered, warningly, but her eyes were shining.

 

To hell with it.  He already had a boner.  Why not have some fun? “I can’t wait to taste you again, to get you on your back,” he ventured.

 

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing,” she replied quietly.

 

He whistled low.  “Dirty girl.” Casey’s cheeks were red, and her voice quiet, but the privacy allowed for her naughtiness to tiptoe out.

 

“Maybe we could make some good-natured bets this summer,” she suggested lightly.

 

“Of what variety?”

 

“The romantic variety.” Her hand slipped over the console to rest on his knee.  Then, inched up his thigh. “Perhaps the sexual variety.”

 

His mouth went dry as her fingertips brushed across the hard-on straining against his jeans. “Yeah.  Just to keep our skills sharp. What do you propose?”

“I’ll think on it.” Her palm flattened, rubbing his cock through his jeans.  His eyelids fluttered, resisting the urge to close-- no,  _ focus on the road. _

 

“We’ll be home in an hour and a half,” he said.  “You’d better think quick.”

 

“Derek, is this distracting?”

 

“Huh?” he was practically panting as she palmed him.

 

“ _ This. _ ” Her fingers squeezed around the bulge of him. “Is it distracting?”

 

“Uh huh,” he replied, mindlessly, as his hips rocked.

 

“Well then I’ll stop.”  Her hand was gone, withdrawn. Derek’s gaze snapped to her, to prim-and-proper Casey again as she popped the visor mirror down and checked her lip gloss.  Back to normal, as if she hadn’t just been giving him hand-service on the highway--

 

“Casey,” he growled.  “Now you’re just being a tease.”   
  


“Nope.  I just prioritize safety.”  She gave him her trademark superior smile.

 

“Goddamnit,” he mumbled in frustration.  

 

“Think of it like a preview,” she suggested happily, but her eyes had that naughty, sexy gleam.  “I’ll keep thinking on our bets for the summer.”

 

He flipped on his blinker and changed lanes. “You mean, we’ll take bets on pranks and stuff?”

 

Casey’s mouth puckered in thought, brows raised.  “No, I think we should make them productive bets. Inspire ourselves to improve.  Then it’s a win-win.”

 

“Meaning?” He wasn’t getting it.

 

Her face was lit up, and sexy Casey was suddenly replaced by keener nerd-Casey, who looked like she’d been stricken by a bolt of lame-o inspiration.  It made his heart patter in his chest, even as his face twisted into horror by habit. He braced himself for her next words: “Like...volunteering. Whoever volunteers more gets to call in a favor from the other.  Or...visits more museums, or worthwhile hobbies or something. Ooh! I heard some Universities offer open lectures to watch online for free! Or even donate blood! Things like that!”

 

“All that for a blowjob?!” he yelped.

 

Her mouth turned downward.  “Are you trying to say that my blowjobs  _ aren’t worth the effort, _ De- _ rek _ ?”

 

“No, but God-- don’t you even know what summer vacation is all about?!  Besides, your weird little nerd list kind of takes the fun and spontaneity out of messin’ around--”

 

She sat back in her seat.  “Fine. But think about it.  We won’t be able to mess around as freely or frequently as we would at school...so we’ve got to be strategic.  And wouldn’t it be all the more inspiring and exciting if we had these great motivators?”

 

“Maybe,” he replied in a deadened tone.  “I guess I thought our parents would just…”

 

Casey’s eyebrows shot so high he thought she might lose them in her hair.  “Let us sleep in the same bedroom and mess around on the couch?”

 

“No,” he said, annoyed.  “I guess it would just be like-- we’re adults and as long as we’re not doing anything gross in front of the others...I don’t know.  I guess I had a couple girls up to my bedroom during high school so…”

 

“Oh, trust me, I know,” she groused.  “I share a wall with you. You had no tact and the girls you brought were disruptive to say the least.  I was always so pissed at George and Mom for letting you pull that sort of thing.”

 

“Jealous?” he asked, though to be honest, he couldn’t remember the names or faces of any of those girls he’d brought up there.  Maybe Sally, once. Otherwise, they were just sort of...interchangeable. Nameless.

 

“Maybe,” she admitted, voice tight.  When he glanced at her, he saw she was staring hard out the window at the passing landscape.

 

He’d never thought about it.  Suddenly, he felt like a dick.  “Hey, Casey-- I’m sorry. If I’d known, back then…” What?  He would’ve…? He didn’t know exactly what he was trying to say, so he just cleared his throat.  “They didn’t mean anything. And they don’t compare.”

 

“I know,” she said, softly.

 

“I mean it.”  Why was his throat suddenly sticking?  God, this was happening a lot around her lately.  “If-- if I could’ve traded a hundred girls for just a second glance from you, I would’ve.  Back then, and now, too.”

 

“A second glance?  I think you’re forgetting how much we fought.  Think back to ‘pre-college, pre-best friend days.  You already got plenty of my attention, D, and I don’t think you wanted half of it back then.”  She was grinning at him fondly.

 

“Well, no, I didn’t want you nagging me, or going all gooey about fuckin’ Max or whatever,” he clarified impertinently, “but...Jesus, Casey.  There was no one I wanted more than you. If I thought I had a shot at being with you, and not in some stupid fake ‘happy clappy family’ way, but in the way I really wanted you...I mean, there’s no competition.”

 

“I was a little jealous,” Casey said, then.  “I once overheard Colleen Wheeler and Anna Frittman talking about you in the bathroom during lunch, and they were getting pretty descriptive about your skills...mostly kissing and groping, but I was eavesdropping and to say I was ‘intrigued’ would be an understatement.  I think I stared at your hands for a week.”

 

“Is that so?” he asked, his pride evident.  “I wish you would’ve said something--”

 

“Uh huh.  Because George and Nora would’ve been thrilled,” Casey replied haughtily.  Then, as if stricken with the reality that she was going to have to confront that reality shortly, she got quiet again.

 

“Hey.  You sure you’re cool with the Plan?” he asked, only a little panicked that maybe, after all, she wouldn’t see it through.  He wasn’t exactly sure  _ what _ they were gonna do, if not tell them...it would be pretty impossible  _ not  _ to, right?  Surely they couldn’t keep up the push-and-shove-like-kids charade all summer, right?  They were  _ past that _ now, right?

 

“Yeah.  I’m cool.  I mean, we have to do it, right?”   
  


“Right.” He adjusted the rearview mirror, needlessly, but wanted something to do with his hands. “I guess they’ll find a way to accept it, right?  And if they don’t...well, we can always go back to Kingston and get some shit apartment if we have to, just to get through summer.” That’s what the “worst case scenario” was that she’d detailed for him.  He didn’t want to think about the million other things that would follow  _ that _ particular route, but...well, there was no use getting ahead of themselves. No, Casey had drawn up “the Plan,” and they’d hashed it out and agreed.  He’d dutifully nodded along as Casey painstakingly outlined the most likely responses of their family. She had four different “best case scenarios” and their variations drafted, and only one aforementioned ominous “worst case scenario.”

 

They’d be fine; they had each other.

 

They’d take it as it came.

 

He reached over to hold her hand.  The smile she returned could only be described as  _ queasy. _

 

He should’ve seen it coming, but he (stupidly) convinced himself that Casey was just nervous, and all was going to go according to the Plan.  Mostly because it was the Plan, damnit.

 

So when the moment came, in the guise of a question they’d suspected would be asked in some form, Derek assumed they were ready.

 

Edwin had just finished regalling them with a side-splitting story about his failed first date with his latest crush, and Casey was laughing so hard that she nearly spat out her drink.  Derek, grinning openly, pushed her napkin toward her with a, “Watch it, Case, or you’ll soak us all.”

 

Nora, with eyes still twinkling from Edwin’s story, caught the gesture.  And then, she asked, “So, Derek. Casey. First year of college down, and successful.”

 

“I need a moment to brag about this boy-- my son!  Solid B’s, first semester of college!” George, still grinning from the overall mirth of the dinner table, raised his glass of ice water in a toast.

 

Derek grinned and raised his glass in return.  Marti squealed, raising her cup, while the others all followed suit.  Casey, with her sparkling perfect eyes, raise hers too-- and clinked it lightly against his.  

 

If anyone was  _ looking at them, _ couldn’t they  _ see? _

 

But then again, these people had also watched him run his hands all over her body on national TV and hadn’t been any the wiser...

 

The moment was coming though.  Casey had plotted at least twenty verbal prompts that they could plan to preface the “discussion” and he had the preternatural feeling that it was about to play out like clockwork.

 

Good.  He was prepared.   _ They  _ were prepared.

 

Nora finished her sip of milk, and then asked, “So, college students.  What was the best part of your first year of college?”   
  


Derek’s eyes flew to Casey, then to the clock to register the time. 6:14 PM. A moment that would go down in infamy.  He looked back at Casey expectantly, not minding that his heart started to thud just a little faster.

 

Casey was looking at him with a stricken expression.  Like she’d been caught in the middle of a play, without any lines.  

 

_ Oh shit. _

 

The whole table was growing quieter, and the atmosphere was getting awkward as they waited through the silence-- watching the two oldest children stare at each other, as if they’d never seen the other before.  

 

Nora tried again, voice slightly higher.  “Guys?”

 

“Sorry, Mom, I just didn’t want to talk over-- over Derek,” Casey breathed, her cheeks turning pink.  Her eyes skipped from his, to her plate, to Nora, to Lizzie, to the ceiling. “I’ll-- uh, I’ll talk first.  If Derek doesn’t mind.”

 

He made a casual “go ahead,”  gesture, but his gaze implored her--  _ I’m here, we’re good, we can do this.  You got this. _

 

She wasn’t looking at him though.  Instead she stammered, “This year. Oh wow.  This year. So much happened-- uh, I’m-- well, I guess the best thing to happen to me this year was...finding out...getting to-togeth…”

 

Just then, Simon tossed his plastic bowl off his high chair tray with a loud shriek.  Both Casey and Derek jumped at the sound, jarred out of the moment.

 

“Hey hey, it’s okay.  Sorry, I forget it’s probably shocking to be around toddler table manners when you’re not used to it.  Here, Simon.” She transferred a few peas from her plate to Simon’s tray, where he happily gobbled them up.  “Okay, Casey, what were you going to say?”

 

Casey looked a little dazed, her eyebrows knotting together in a way that made Derek’s heart squeeze unpleasantly.  She was staring at Simon too hard; Derek could practically see the cliche inner-monologue rolling through her mind. And then, when she opened her mouth, he just  _ knew _ she wasn’t going to go through with it.  “Sorry, Mom. The best thing about this year was getting to spend time with Derek.”

 

He waited, every nano-second that slipped by further proof that  _ she wasn’t going through with the Plan. _

 

He wanted to feel affronted, he wanted to look at her with censure and make a face.  But mostly...his chest just felt strangely empty.

 

This was the moment, the perfect moment-- and she didn’t take it.

 

He should’ve sensed it on their drive home. 

 

“Aw, there we have it.  Did someone get that on record?”  George was still goofy from Edwin’s story, from the whole evening’s festive reunion.  Apparently the weirdness that Derek thought descended on the room like a fog was only bothersome to him.  Derek looked around the table stiffly. Everyone else was still reveling in the “one big happy family” feeling.

 

And Casey, evidently, wasn’t going to ruin that any time soon.

 

No, God forbid-- they’d waited  _ this long _ for a big happy family moment...and who was Casey McDonald to ruin that, even if it was to share the truth?  Even if the truth was  _ good fucking news (he knew it, he knew it, it was the best thing that could’ve ever happened so why was she not taking the moment _ ?).

 

Suddenly, Derek, with a determination that soaked every cell in his body, said, “Want to know the best part about  _ my  _ year, Nora?”

 

Nora, and probably everyone else at the table, seemed a little surprised by the force of his tone.  Still, warmly, she said, “Of course, Derek. What was it?”

 

“Actually, it’s more like an ‘is’ the best part of my year, because from what I can tell, it won’t be ending any time soon.”  Derek looked across the table at Casey. He knew he had his gameface on; her eyes widened at his unwavering, dark gaze. “I have an announcement. I hope you’ll all know that this isn’t easy but I hope you’ll be able to be happy for me and--”

 

“DEREK HAS A NEW GIRLFRIEND,” Casey shrieked like a never-before-used emergency siren, loud enough that they probably heard her out in Saskatchewan, and loud enough to effectively silence Derek.  

 

Well, more like stun him.  His brain slugged along, trying to figure out what was happening.  She was confessing like this? This wasn’t the Plan! She was going renegade--

 

“And, like, he’s too embarrassed to bring her around here but he really likes her and yeah, whoops, sorry, Der, didn’t mean to bust your secret--” Casey was yammering at light-speed, an obnoxious tone he’d heard a thousand times in high school, finally shutting herself up by gulping down ice water like a deranged camel.

 

His jaw was hanging loose, staring at Casey with a mixture of betrayal, outrage, and hurt.

 

“Derek, is that true?”  George’s eyebrows were raised with delight.

 

“It is, look at his face!”  Edwin clapped him on his back.  “Cat’s out of the bag! Thanks Casey!”

 

The “Casey mask” faded; in its place, each of her features was twisted with guilt.

 

He could feels his ears turning red.  Breathing out slowly, through his nostrils, and beseeching God for some patience, he said, “Yeah.  Thanks, Casey.”

 

Edwin hooted. “Oh, come on, man.  We’ve met your girlfriends before!  Why didn’t you tell us?” 

 

In that moment, with Casey refusing to look at him, and his dad, Edwin and Lizzie haranguing him for details about his “mystery college girl,” Derek wanted nothing more than to disappear into the floor.  This was worse than the night on the porch, when he thought she was going to reject him. This was practically rejection, unto itself-- after everything that had happened, she was pulling this bullshit?

 

This was not the Plan.

 

He felt sick.

 

“I didn’t tell you,” he gritted out, focusing on his dad, “because I think she’s something special.  But I’m afraid she doesn’t feel the same way. I guess I didn’t want to be the only one excited to tell everybody, if she wasn’t.  She isn’t even comfortable telling her family.”

 

In his peripheral, Casey took another gulp of ice water.

 

Did Nora’s eyes narrow?  Derek focused solely on his dad.

 

“Why wouldn’t she want to tell her family?” Edwin asked, shaking his head. “You’re awesome, man!”

 

“I don’t know.  She had an opportunity but I guess she decided not to.”  He forced out a crackling, rude laugh. “Maybe she’s ashamed of me.  Who’s to say, Ed? Point is, you all know now...so, don’t bug me about it.”   Casey’s silence was like a gaping wound, oozing worse with every missed interruption.  Because he was a self-destructive asshole, he wanted to push his thumb deeper into the wound, so he added ruefully, “But that, Nora,  _ was _ the best part of my year.  Who knows if it’ll last though, you know?”

 

Nora nodded, slowly, with an expression he’d never seen on her face.

 

She probably felt sorry for him.

 

_ He  _ felt sorry for him.  He couldn’t help but send an acidic look toward Casey--  _ his girlfriend, his  _ cowardly lying  _ girlfriend-- _ but she was studying the ice cubes at the bottom of her glass. His words probably made her want to cry.

 

Good. _ He  _ sort of wanted to cry, because of her big fat stupid mouth.  What was  _ she thinking?! _

 

Nora opened her mouth to say something else, probably something comforting and motherly and utterly bullshit considering the fact that he  _ was talking about her daughter _ , when Marti declared, “I don’t think she’s ashamed of you, Smerek.  If you love her, then she knows she’s lucky.”

 

George raised his brow at Marti’s word choice.  “I don’t know if it’s love, yet, Marti, and there’s no pressure to put labels on it, son, if you two are still figuring it out--

 

“It is love.  Thanks, Smarti.”  Was it possible for his heart to feel bruised?  The emptiness was abating, and a foreign pain was starting to set in.

 

Casey stiffened at his words.  Then, she looked up at him, and he barely wanted to look at her in that moment, so he couldn’t hold her gaze for more than half a blink.   In a soft voice, she said, “I’m sorry, Derek. I know it’s love. I didn’t mean to--”

 

He shrugged, dejected and hating this whole fucking pastoral dinner scene with a vengeance he hadn’t felt since he was 16.  He wanted to  _ get out. _  “Whatever.  Listen, I told Sam we’d stop by Ralph’s tonight.  I’m supposed to pick him up right after dinner, so I’m gonna jet.”

 

“But you’re on dish duty,” Lizzie reminded him.

 

“I’ll do it, Lizzie. Derek, don’t--” she swallowed, then said, in a voice too kind for him to listen to at this moment, “don’t worry about it.  I’ll clean up.”

 

“Thanks,” he said back flatly.  He barely restrained himself from adding “ _ sis,”  _ to it, just to piss her off-- but he didn’t.  That wouldn’t fucking help anything. Instead he pushed back from the table loudly and grabbed his keys from the entry console.

 

It was going to be a long summer; what the hell was Casey thinking?  Maybe it had just started to dawn on her….maybe at Queens’, they’d been a “thing” but here...at home, she was regretting him.  What if they went back to what they’d been before? Or worse-- the regret created distance? What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

 

He couldn’t stop his brain from snapping through the scenarios, particularly the ones he feared most.  Her, locking her door to him. Avoiding him. Putting on her “Casey the Perfect” mask and never letting him get under her skin again.  Never letting him get past the facade because it was too dangerous. They were too combustible. 

 

He was being fatalistic.  But his brain wouldn’t stop. He pulled the Prince over on Byron Baseline Road, trying to compose himself.  He wanted his brain to just  _ stop _ but the images kept coming, kept taunting…

 

Casey not answering his calls.  He’d sabotage it by trying to prove how  _ unbothered _ he was, and start dating without discretion.  He’d  _ want her  _ to know.  He’d date her floor-mates, her Drama Club buddies.  She thought sharing a wall with him in high school was bad?  He’d show her. He’d go out of his way to flaunt his heartbreaker reputation in front of her.  He’d drink like a fish. Eventually he’d stop hurting, right? Eventually, he’d forget about the stupid ideas he’d had about her, about their future...he might even be able to talk to her again, albeit never with the closeness they’d found…

 

But  _ fuck, _ one day she’d undoubtedly come home with a  _ boyfriend. _  And he’d sabotage that.  Then she’d come home with another, until eventually he wouldn’t be able to keep up, and she’d bring home “the One” who she didn’t regret, and wasn’t embarrassed to tell their family about, and she’d expect him to play along and be  _ fucking happy for her because that’s just the sort of stupid, asinine thing that Casey would expect. _

Because there was no Casey without Derek, and there was no Derek without Casey.   _ Of course _ she’d want him to be part of these special moments, even if there was a wall of secrecy and shame forever between them.

 

He yanked his hands through his hair.

 

Would she be cruel enough to ask him to stand for her wedding?  Fine, he could be, too. He’d find the hottest, smartest woman in the world (who still probably wouldn’t compare, because she wouldn’t be Casey, but he’d tried his damnedest anyway), and he’d be sure to repay every grievance tenfold.  Because then she’d  _ know  _ and she could think back to this night, to 6:14 PM when they could’ve had a different reality--

 

He wanted to break something, or to scream or…

 

His cheeks were wet.

 

Astonished, he touched them.  Dumbfounded, he caught his own red-eyed, contemptuous reflection in his rearview mirror.  

 

He was  _ crying _ ?

 

He hadn’t cried since-- Jesus, he couldn’t remember when.  

 

Holy  _ shit, _ his brain had run away with him there. Was that what Casey felt like at any given day, being prone to overanalyze?  Could her thought process be nearly as hellish and traitorous? His brain  _ rarely  _ went into overdrive like that.  Agonizing over things that hadn’t come to pass.

 

God, the misery was so  _ real _ though.

 

He swiped at his cheeks, took a few deep breaths, then went to the corner store to buy cigarettes.

 

\-----

 

He smoked an entire pack of cigarettes at Jaycees Park.  He was surprised no one had come over to reprimand the 19 year old guy sprawled on the mulch near the basketball court, sullen and angry and lighting up cigarette-after-cigarette.

 

Luckily, hardly anybody even came to the Park...he was free to wallow and waste time until the sun set.  He ignored three calls from Casey before he finally just shut his phone down.

 

He’d talk to her later.

 

He didn’t even know if he  _ wanted  _ to talk to her.

 

What the hell had she been thinking?  

 

That day on his bed, the first night they’d slept side-by-side, seemed so far away now.  She’d said she loved him, then. She’d said it once more since then, too, when he came out of his maths exam pumping his fist in victory.  She was waiting for him, peppering kisses on his cheeks as she breathed, “I love you! That’s awesome!”

 

So much for  _ love. _  They’d been so sure that telling their parents was the right thing to do.  They’d agreed it would have to happen eventually, because-- well, they had  _ a future _ .  

 

“We have to do it.  It’ll just get worse, if we walk in to make another announcement and we didn’t even follow step one,” she had said, as they shared their Wednesday night Chinese food last week.

 

He’d felt a little lost, not wanting to presume.  “Another announcement?”

  
Her cheeks had flushed, and she looked indignant.  “Oh, come on, Derek. I’m talking about...you know.  Next steps. Those next steps can’t even be next steps, if we don’t take the first step.”

 

Derek just chewed on his crab cheese wonton with a baffled expression.  Then, it dawned on him. “You mean, like, moving in together?”

 

Casey raised her brows high.  “Well...well, yeah. I guess so.  That.” She paused, gazing out the window thoughtfully.  “That, and other steps.” The look she’d given him was so charged with sincere hope that he wanted to launch himself across the table to kiss her.

 

Ironic.  So much for “next steps” and needing to prepare for their commitment.  Who was the one lacking in commitment now? She’d called him a “cad,” many times-- well, tonight, she was the cad.  She didn’t follow through, and she’d made up that stupid lie that was going to certainly bite them in the ass, if it didn’t soundly topple their relationship first.

 

When he got home, it was late-- the only light on in the entire house was the one over the kitchen sink.  Everything was still. His phone remained black; he didn’t want to see any texts from her, didn’t want to see her excuses or her flimsy plans for “alternative plans” or some other fancy Casey-esque word. 

 

If he was the Lord of Lies, he’d better start plotting now...he’d undoubtedly wake up tomorrow and have to solve Operation: Fake College Girlfriend somehow.

 

He shuffled toward the fridge.  

 

Just as he wrapped his palm around the handle, someone cleared their throat quietly.

 

Startled, Derek whirled to find Nora leaning against the counter nearby.  She was dressed in her black night-robe, and was barely visible in the dark.

 

“Sorry,” she said lightly.

 

“You scared me.” His voice sounded raspy from smoking.  He didn’t care. “Didn’t know you were there.”

 

She came closer, nose wrinkling at the stench of cigarettes that clung to him.  “How were Ralph and Sam?”

 

“Oh-- urh, fine.  Same old, same old.”

 

“Oh really?”  Her eyes were unreadable.   “Interesting. Sam called the house phone at about 9 and wondered if you were back from Queens’ yet.  He said your phone was off but he’d like to hang out tomorrow if you’re around.”

 

Derek blinked, trying to work his way through the nuances to find a palatable lie-- then, suddenly, felt tired.  Fuck it. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah.  Oh, Derek.”  Nora sighed, looking at him with something like…. _ pity? _

 

Instinctively, he began to bristle. “So what.  I needed to go have a smoke. It’s claustrophobic, being here…”

 

She silenced him by wrapping her arms around him.

 

Derek froze, but Nora wasn’t deterred.  She persisted in her embrace for a good half a minute before giving him a loving pat on the back and stepping back.  Her hands held his upper-arms, eyes liquid-like and wise as she said, “I know you love her.”

 

Oh, great.   _ Her,  _ the fake college girlfriend who he couldn’t be bothered to make up a name for at the moment.  He hadn’t wanted to bother with any more lies tonight, but if obligation called-- “Listen, it’ll all work out.  I wish Casey hadn’t said anything, because my business is my business and--”

 

“Shhh.” Nora squeezed his arms, unrelenting with  _ that look. _  “Derek, I know.  I know it’s Casey.”

 

His neck tingled.  It took a long pause before he whispered, “What?”

 

“I know you’re in love with Casey.  And that she loves you.”

 

He couldn’t believe his ears. 

 

“Casey talked to me tonight.”

 

“She did?”  His chest felt full.  Relief? Dread? Wonder?

 

“Yes.  She loves you, Derek.  She told me that you’ve been seeing each other.”  Nora released him, gesturing for him to have a seat.  He plunked down obediently, mystified. “She was horribly sorry that she lied. She said you two had agreed to tell us tonight.  Is that true?” At his nod, Nora answered, “And it sounds like you were trying to do just that. Casey...well, I don’t have to make any excuses for her.  You know her; and I should hope, if you love her, you know the good  _ and _ the bad, and love her for it all the same.”

 

“I-- I just didn’t think you’d…” he began sheepishly.

 

“Derek, honey.  I may not be your mother, but I love you like one of my children. I’ve watched you grow up from a boy to a man these past few years...especially this past year.  Especially these past few months. I know your bravado and your mischief. It drives me a little crazy sometimes, but I also think it’s what makes you so lovable.  I also know that you have a heart of gold.” Her lips spread in a conspiring smile. “And I know that you’ve been like a magnet to my daughter since the day you two met.”

 

He swallowed, nodding wordlessly.  It was  _ true. _  His whole world had trembled and been trying to reset itself ever since she first popped around the corner with a shy wave (for Ralph), smiling and gawkish and nervous and  _ earth-rending.  _  He’d been an observer, sinking back into the lockers to let Ralph bumble his way through her introductory tour of Thompson.  Thank God she’d been too focused on Ralph to glance his way-- he’d looked properly spooked. Maybe the word Nora used was exactly right--  _ magnet. _  He’d been enthralled, hanging on every word as Casey and Ralph ate lunch together.  His knuckles had cracked with the struggle to stay calm as Ralph began to question her about a  _ boyfriend, _ until finally he couldn’t bear it anymore-- he’d interrupted, forcing himself to avoid direct eye contact as much as possible as he purposefully and rudely goaded her into leaving. 

 

He’d almost felt  _ afraid _ of her, that day, though he refused to admit it.  He was afraid of those Casey blue eyes, and the fact that everything about her seemed to entrance him.  Even worse, he was afraid of that the world might catch on if he didn’t get his act together, and quick.  Even Ralph, poor simple Ralph, responded in the way that Derek knew they all would, at the prospect of Casey falling for her stepbrother: “Ew.”

 

In high school, it was terrifying.  The world seemed so small then. And then, there was Casey, succinctly summarizing her feelings within twenty seconds of finding out his real identity: “You’re turning my ‘just maybe’ into a ‘most definite no.”  She wasn’t just talking about their parents’ relationship-- she really meant  _ him. _  He felt like he’d been socked in the gut. He’d never been cut down to size so brutally in so eloquent a sentence-- and her passion left no doubt in his brain that  _ she meant it. _  She wasn’t intrigued by him, or captivated by him as so many of the girls he knew were...instead, this girl gave her perfect smile to everybody else on the planet except him.  

 

He didn’t  _ need this shit. _

 

So, he’d leaned forward, voice snake-like and a tad cruel as he confided, “Well, then we’re on the same side.”  If she loathed him, he could absolutely return that feeling. Then, when he told her about “Operation Disengagement,” her eyes had sparked in a way that made his skin feel electric, and he was 100% sure all over again that,  _ yes, it’s a good idea to get this girl out of my life fast.   _ He made it a point to flirt in front of her, just to prove that most, normal-brained girls found him appealing, even if she didn’t.  _ Get rid of her quick, by whatever means necessary.  Freak her out, offend her, show her how impossible you are-- get away. _

 

Obviously, it didn’t work out.  He’d watched her march back to his dad, that damnable (attractive) resolution written all over her, and give her blessing to him-- and felt his heart splinter a bit.  Gravity shifted as he realized this girl was a force unlike anything he’d ever seen before, and his whole world rearranged to include her in it-- both in the most obvious physical sense (she was going to be moving in soon) and in an elusive, terrifying and heart-pounding sense (his destiny had just come crashing into his life, sporting 90s bangs and a retainer, and he was never going to be the same).

 

The four years following were a half-hell...living in the same space as his combined-greatest obsession and fiercest rival, feeling a little more lost to her passion every day.  And yet it all culminated in Chinese Wednesdays, and bickering in the Prince, and feeling like Heaven couldn’t be better than a late night holding hands and talking to Casey until they both fell asleep, fingers entwined.  It had been  _ worth it. _

  
  


And go figure-- Nora had seen it since the start.  Or so she was telling him. He must be dreaming.

 

Nora continued, “We wondered, when George and I initially started talking marriage...if we should be concerned about this.  It was either going to be fireworks or an explosion so...well, you know how we put it off for the longest time. Then you met and it was the explosion. There was no getting around it; it was way worse than what we’d thought.   In fact, it even made me start to wish that there  _ was  _ something more there, just to explain the catastrophe.  Neither George or I had ever seen anything like it. It went way beyond personality clash...so, I thought, maybe one day, if you two could get over your...God, I just have to call it what it is-- your sexual tension, then...well, I think you two would be good for each other.  You already were good for each other, even when you were at each other’s throats.”

 

Nora leaned back, shaking her head at the bewildered expression on Derek’s face.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But Nora wasn’t done. “She comes alive around you; I’ve always said, Casey will need a man who keeps her engaged.  And lets her be who she naturally is. She’s a smart girl whose brain and heart run off with her sometimes...and I think you ground her in the present, and ground her in herself.  And I think she does the same for you. I think you’re both chaotic, in your own ways...and together you sort of counterbalance.”

 

“So. Wait.”  He held up a hand. This was a lot to absorb, even beyond Nora’s psycho-analysis babble.  This was five years, being turned on its axis. “Let me get this straight. You  _ hoped  _ we’d end up--  _ together _ ?”

 

Nora shrugged.  “I  _ hoped _ my daughter would find someone who would be totally enraptured by her for who she is, and not the illusion of who she could be.   You protected her when it mattered most, and had her back. You reminded her that there was life beyond boys like Truman French. And...Derek?”  Her smile widened, and an eyelid dropped into a wink. “I’m not blind. After a certain age, women get a certain  _ sense _ ...and suddenly, every glance and every little ploy isn’t so secret anymore.  It’s especially obvious when I was helping you pack up your dorm-room and found the monogram necklace I got her last Christmas on the floor under your bed.  But I’ve learned in life that sometimes...it’s best not to push, and to let some things come out naturally.”

 

A laugh burst from Derek’s chest; he felt like his body was loosening, letting go of a tension he hadn’t realized was building in his very bones.  Maybe it had been there for five years. He wasn’t sure. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, exhausted but joyous. “I never thought you’d...you’re surprisingly cool, Nora.  Obviously. But now, I...really appreciate it.”

 

She hugged him again, doing that rocking-motion that mothers seemed to innately do.  He let himself relax into her arms, closing his eyes and letting every gentle swing knock his heartache and exhaustion even farther away.

 

“Forgive her for tonight, Derek,”  Nora murmured onto the crown of his head.  “And thank you for being brave and trying to make everything right.”

 

“I ran away,” he reminded her flatly.  “Not that I regret it. I was-- agh. I still am pissed, to be honest.”

 

“I know.  And you deserved to be.  But she clearly feels as strongly for you as you do her, or she wouldn’t have come to me.”

 

He grunted.

 

Nora nodded thoughtfully.  “I want to be upset that you thought your dad and I would be so opposed; that you thought you had to hide it and collaborate over a big plan to unveil it like it was some sort of dirty secret.”

 

_ It was, _ he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to curse himself and say anything that might make Nora change her mind.  He didn’t want to be the cause of any epiphanies that might overturn everything. He was still processing the epiphany his stepmother had just loosed on him.

 

“But on the other hand, I know you two were clearly taking this seriously from the get-go...and that’s all a parent can ask for.  If you’re smart about this, you’ll be smart about...other things.” Nora cleared her throat. “But that’s a topic for your dad. I’m talking purely emotional stuff here.”

 

“Does Dad know?”

 

“No, not yet.  But I’ll talk to him. Then you should talk to him.  We’ve made our jokes in the past about you two...so I don’t think it’ll be quite the disaster that you two were apparently expecting.  We just expect honesty.” She narrowed her eyes at him before adding, “Need I remind you-- you two were practically adults when you met.  It would’ve been happy luck if you decided to bond as siblings; even better luck to bond as friends.”

 

Derek ventured, “And if we bonded as more…?”

 

“Then that’s your decision.  There is nothing illegal or biologically unsound about your relationship.”  Nora patted his shoulder. “Take a deep breath. One day at a time. We love you two, and want this to work if that’s what you both want. And before you have a chance to doubt it, I’ll tell you-- Casey  _ does _ want it to work.  So please, cut her some slack, Derek.”

 

He nodded, then, with prickling eyes, reached out for Nora for a final hug.  

 

How did he get so lucky?  In fifteen minutes, under the single light of the kitchen sink, Nora had done the impossible:  she made the world right again. Hell, she might’ve made it more right than it had ever been.

 

“I’m going to go wake up Casey,” he told her.  “Tell her we talked, tell her I plan on talking to Dad tomorrow.”

 

“Sounds good.  You can tell your siblings when the time is right.  Though...I think you’ll find that Marti will be 100% onboard.”

 

At the mention of his little sister’s name, a grin spread over Derek’s lips. “Yeah?  Why’s that?”

 

“She used to naively talk about how you two would get married.  Now that she’s older, she  _ still  _ hasn’t dropped it...and she vehemently told me when you were away at school that if Casey found a boy to marry who wasn’t her Smerek, she was going to ruin the engagement.”

 

They shared a laugh. Derek pecked Nora on the cheek, and was halfway up the stairs when she called in a low, quiet voice, “Derek?”

 

He was antsy to get up to Casey.  But he didn’t want to come across as annoyed; not when Nora had been a Godsend to him.  So he asked, “Yes?”

 

“I really am impressed by the man you’ve become. My daughter’s very lucky.”  A pause, then, “I’m sure your dad will talk to you about physical stuff-- but I want to tell you to please keep doors open from here on out.”

 

He swallowed back a naughty grin, and in a tone of uncrackable sweetness, he said, “Of course, Nora.”

 

“I mean it.  My house, my rules.”  He gave her a thumbs up over his shoulder, and heard her say “hmmm,” before he rounded the corner up the stairs.

 

He cracked Casey’s door.  She was asleep, but not comfortably.  She was still dressed in her outfit from earlier, curled on top of the covers.  She clearly didn’t intend to fall asleep. She was waiting for him.

 

Derek crossed to her bed softly, kneeling beside it and taking her hand.  He drew slow circles on her palm until her fingers curled around his, signalling her attention.  Her eyes fluttered open.

 

“Derek,” she whispered.

 

“Casey,” he replied, evenly.

 

“I am so, so sorry.”  Even her whisper was scratchy from tears.

 

“I know.”  He kissed her palm, eyes dark and glinting from the glow of her corner nightlight.  “I love you, Casey.”

 

“I love you, Derek.  I hope I didn’t ruin everything between us tonight.  I don’t know what came over me. I feel like such an idiot.”

 

“No comment on the idiot thing,” he said solemnly.  

 

She made a whining, piteous sound in the back of her throat.

 

“Seriously?”  He rolled his eyes demonstratively, but kissed her palm again.  “You didn’t ruin everything. Nora just talked to me.”

 

She was more alert now.  Her fingers tightened around his.   “She did?”

 

“Mhmm. She said how you told her everything…”

 

“And that she’s happy for us?”

 

He nodded. 

 

Casey’s words tumbled out of her.  “I was so glad when I finally just told her.  She knew everything I wanted to say, knew exactly what my feelings for you were, Derek.  She was so wonderful and supportive. I was so relieved, but then...when you didn’t answer my calls, I was devastated all over again because it was my fault in the first place.  I shouldn’t have lied. I made you feel like shit, and that wasn’t fair.” Her eyes started to water again.

 

“Shh. It’s weird hearing you swear.”  He cupped her cheek. “It doesn’t matter, because the truth is out there now.  And my truth…” he slid his fingers through her hair, “hasn’t changed. I love you.  Even if you’re certifiably insane.”   
  


She didn’t respond to his teasing as she replied back with vehement sincerity: “I love you too.  And I want all those next steps. And I promise, I won’t mess them up in the way that I did tonight.  I won’t lie about us ever again, to anyone. I’m not ashamed of you. You’re amazing and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”

 

He kissed her, his tongue brushing against her lower lip.  Her lemon-flavored night-time chapstick made his muscles tighten.  He felt the blood begin to rush south, toward an erection that would not be useful tonight.  He broke their kiss.

 

“Come to bed?” she asked quietly, beseechingly.  She clutched her comforter, as if beckoning him to climb in.

 

He shook his head.  “Nora was pretty clear.  I don’t know what rules are going down tomorrow, after I talk to my dad, but...well, finding us in bed together won’t be good for our lucky winning streak so far.”

 

She nodded.  “Right. They’d be far more willing to support us if we demonstrate our maturity and sensible decision-making..”  Then, the right side of her mouth puckered in. Mischief danced in her eyes. “We can always find opportune times for lusty intrigue, when we can steal away on our own for a bit…”

 

He grinned impishly.  “Uh huh. What, you mean if I become a regular at the museum or beat your summer reading list, you might let me cop a feel?”

 

“Damn.  You caught me.  I’m just trying to ensure we use our summer productively, in both an intellectual and carnal sense.”  She ran fingers through his hair, down his neck. Her expression sobered. “I love you. I want to be with you, and show you how much you mean to me.  And I want you, even if you don’t like the museum and don’t take any online summer courses. You’re-- amazing, Derek. I’m sorry again.”   
  
His chest tightened.  “I love you too. Now go to sleep.”  He kissed her again, chastely, before rising to leave.

 

“Hey, Derek?”

 

He paused at the door.  “Hmm?”

 

“Falling in love with you was definitely the best part of my year.  And Marti was right-- I know I’m incredibly lucky, to have your love.”

 

He smiled, but knew she couldn’t see it in the dark.  “Goodnight, Spacey.”

  
  


//////

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I don't know if I should keep going, or if this is a good place to stop? I so enjoy these two characters and really love this fandom. Thanks for your support, let me know your thoughts in comments...especially if I should continue, or if the narrative has reached an authentic ending. Or if there's anything you'd like to see? Ah, I hope you liked it. I'm suddenly really nervous. hehehe Thank you for reading. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm obsessed with these two, after just discovering them this spring. I've been watching and reading as much LWD/Dasey material as I possibly can. Forgive any details that might've slipped through...I'm new to the fandom and adore these characters. Hope to read more Dasey fanfic and see new activity in the community.
> 
> Thanks again for your comments and giving this a chance. Much appreciated.


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